Siovhan (siovhan) wrote in beboprpg, @ 2008-04-24 03:31:00 |
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Current mood: | awake |
And it begins...
Who: Vicious and Saia
When: Early Evening
What: Vicious awakens to a surprise, six months after 'dying'
Warnings: None
His ears buzzed as he felt himself wake up from a deep slumber. The hum of the air condition as it kicked on and off, the murmur of voices in heavy conversation, the clatter of a fork dropped on the tile floor all assaulted his ears in painful cadence. The smell of fish wafting on the air tickled his nose. Head still laying on the table he tried to remember who he was before he worried about where his was. The fog that clouded his mind lifted slowly and his name was the first memory to come tumbling back: Vicious. The recesses of his brain dredged up his past and replayed on the back of his eyelids like a rerun movie - the red dragons, the coup, the assassination of the Van. Then he remember that Julia was dead. And Spike. The smell of the syndicate building burning, the crack of a gunshot, the slicing of steel on flesh. He'd killed Spike, and Spike had killed him.
So was he dead? The tingling feelings in his extremities were telling him otherwise. With effort, he forced his heavy eyes to open. The room he was in was darkened, but even the small amount of light from the candle flickering on the table was enough to cause him to squeeze his eyes shut again. His head ached, his body felt stiff, and he still had no idea where he was. Vicious breathed in slowly and opened his eyes again.
The room was fuzzy until his eyes adjusted to seeing again. Carefully, to avoid further pain to his cranium, he lifted his head off the table. Across from him a woman, blond, sat staring at him as though she had all the time in the world. He glanced around the room and realized he was in a restaurant; patrons sat at tables drinking Saki and eating sushi while waiter scurried around dropping off food and drinks and picking up empty dishes. Turning back to the woman, he blinked again confused. I really must be dead he thought. His voice barely audible, he whispered in shock, "Julia?"
She had been watching him closely; she had memorized the angles of his face, the hard set of his jaw and the way his hair fell softly around his face. For being a man most deserving of his name; he looked to her, in this moment, to be more of a lost kitten. That would wear off in time. Pity She supposed she should enjoy it while it lasted. She leaned forward, the fine silk of her tailored black suit rubbing against the cheap vinyl of the seat. She lifted up her dark black sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head, they were ridiculously out of place considering the dimness of their environment. She peered back at him with rich maple eyes as a slow smile spread across her lips.
"Welcome back."
Vicious stared at the woman for a moment before answering. Her hair was blond and her clothing reminded him one of Julia's favorite outfits. Even the curve of her chest and the shape of her face resembled the woman he used to love. Spike had told him Julia was dead, and he had assumed she was dead even before Spike's arrival at the syndicate, but he hadn't seen her dead body himself. Even so, he reasoned, his brain starting to function more normally, if Julia was alive, she certainly wouldn't have come to him. Or would she?
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Mmmm, perceptive boy," she said practically purring with the fun she was going to have with him. She pulled a box of cigarettes out of an inner pocket of her suit jacket, but just as she was about to light up she looked at him and asked, "Do you mind? Well, no of course you don't, silly me." She took her time lighting the cigarette it was long and slim and had a vague fruity scent mixed with the tobacco. Exhaling a puff of smoke she turned to him again. "My name, for now, is Siovahn and for you I am the grace of god."
Vicious didn't know what irritated him worse - the fact that Siovahn called him 'boy' or that she considered herself her grace. Both statements made him want to slit her throat. Unfortunately he was painfully aware of the lack of weapons he had available. Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, pleased that at least some semblance of balance was returning to him. "And why is that?" he questioned, playing along with the woman's little game. There would be time to turn the tables down the road.
"God has decided to return you to the world of the living and he has placed me by your side," Siovahn said the smile never slipping from her face as she detected the hint of malice in her dinner date. "You have lost everything in your world; the Red Dragon Syndicate has been eradicated, your men are dead or imprisoned, and the two people you cared most about in this world are beyond your reach. But you are still here. For better or for worse you have been called upon to carry on."
He cocked an eyebrow. "There is no God." Stated plainly, Vicious truly believed his words. A higher order would have never allowed the world to fall into the horrid decay that teemed on every planet in the solar system. "So if not God, I assume your use of the analogy is for your boss." Vicious' eyes glanced to the glass of water that had been placed on the table in front of him, probably while he'd still been half passed out on the table. He briefly wondered how Siovahn had explained that to the staff, then decided he didn't really care. "So the next question is why?"
"I knew I'd like you." Siovahn had spent hours reading through his files and had been utterly fascinated by the man. She had been given a choice for her own new life and had chosen him without a second thought. "Why, is such a fascinating question. There is the physical, the metaphysical, the transitory, the Form, the motive, the truth, and the lie. God is our personal savior. That is the physical and the metaphysical. The transitory bears nothing upon ones such as we and the Form is forever out of our reach or so say the greatest of the Greeks." She took a deep puff from her cigarette and let it out slowly forming rings of smoke in the air through which she watched him. She leaned forward to better be able to see him in the dim lighting; now was when the game began. "Motives may be understood only by the bearer, the truth brings pain and regret, and the lie may be bittersweet. Choose wisely because I will give you only one of the three. So which 'why' do you will?"
"The Greeks are a dead civilization," Vicious retorted, "They lost their edge and suffered for it." He watched as she continued to smoke the cigarette. He hasn't smoked since his days of whiskey and pool with Spike, but a damned cigarette sounded wonderful right now. He refused, however, to ask Siovahn for one of her fruity excuses for a smoke and determined he'd pick up a pack when he left this stinky restaurant. After the dead on the table nap he'd just taken, fish wasn't the most plenty smell to tingle his nostrils. "A lie only distorts reality; gives someone something to believe in when reality is that there is nothing to believe in. Pain and regret do no bother me. But I wish to know my adversary's motives."
"Then did you loose your edge, Vicious?" Siovahn asked. She hadn't planned on asking him, she had planned on answering his question as she was supposed to. But her curiosity got the better of him and, after all, he was the one who had picked up on the subject.
"I accomplished my goal," Vicious replied, raising an eyebrow at her response. He said nothing more, expecting that she'd answer the question he'd picked. Vicious wasn't certain he'd believe a word that came out of her mouth, but even lies could be useful when getting to know one's opponent.
Siovahn wanted so much to ask him more, but this wasn't the time. There would be plenty of opportunities in the future for her to ask him all the questions that filled her head. But for now her job was to be the narrator, to answer his questions and set him upon his journey's path. "God's motive may not be known to us in its entirety, but I will tell you what I do know of his will. He does not believe that your true goal is yet accomplished, your story is not finished, and He has given you a chance to start again." Siovahn finished her cigarette and disposed of it as she formed the words she would say to him, that she had recited over and over again in her head just for this moment. "Your past is behind you. You say that your former aspirations have all been met. You have before you a second life to live, the opportunity of a clean slate. Tabula Rosa. So what is it that your desire?"
Vicious didn't answer. Instead, he flagged down a passing waiter and ordered himself a glass of whiskey. Let the bitch pay for his drink. He turned back to Siovahn and smirked, "My story? Your 'god' cares about my story?" If that wasn't a lie, Vicious didn't know what else would have qualified. Whoever had saved him must have a more selfish motive, but Vicious could understand wanting it kept secret. Irritated that Siovahn would even bother to offer up such information, he sat back and waited for his whiskey to arrive before replying to her question. Once the glass of amber liquid was sitting in front of him and he'd taken a sip, he met her eyes again. "I'm a hunter, Siovahn. I hunt. That's what I desire. My previous prey is dead - both of them. The ultimate hunt is finished, so If I am to continue I must find a new one."
This was what she had been waiting for. His purpose. She couldn't say that this was what she had been expecting but it had been foolish of her to pretend to guess. "The hunt comes in many forms Vicious," Siovahn said still calm and collected as if they were merely chatting over tea. "Will you hunt for power? For glory? Or, again for blood? You don't have to rush, and you don't have to answer me now. You have an opportunity that few others in this world will ever gain. You can choose a new you. You can have a new name, a new occupation, a new world; if you so choose it. And I am here to grant it for you."
"You sound like a fucking fairy god mother," Vicious snorted before emptying the remainder of his whiskey glass bottom up. Pushing back his chair he stood up; his legs tingled slightly at once again having weight on them. He wasn't in the mood to play Siovahn's games, and he was tired of the fish smell that permeated the restaurant around him. "I see no need to change my name or who I am, nor do I need your help in finding a place to go."
"You may call me your fairy god mother if you wish though the name seems a bit old for me," Siovahn said standing as well. "You may not need my help but you will have it." With that she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of keys placing them down on to the table. "You will find a small amount of cash in your wallet and cell phone in your pocket. The keys are to an apartment I have set up for you, you will find things there that you may miss should you not avail yourself of my hospitality for the night." She reached into the breast pocket inside her jacket and this time pulled out a small silver case. She pulled out a white business card. Scrawled in black ink in neat handwriting was her name and a number and on the back was the address for the apartment. "Call me when you decide what it is you want from this world."
He hesitated, wishing to divorce himself entirely from this woman and her attitude of control, however her comment about the items he would miss drew his attention. He reached out and snatched the card, stuffing it in his pocket. "Don't expect me to call," he countered, before turning to leave.
He would call she didn't doubt that for an instant. "One more thing Vicious," Siovahn called after him. Reaching into her pocket once more she produced a small memory card. "You have been dead to the world for the last six months. Much has changed in your absence. I would recommend a little light reading before attempting to strike out on your own." With that she held out the chip to him in the palm of her hand. Contained within it were news clippings, photos, and file information on everything in his former life that had changed since his disappearance.
His eyes widened at her words. "Six months?" he mouthed as he reached for the offered chip. Six months had passed since he'd killed Spike? He hadn't expected that. Days perhaps, weeks even - given the fact that his shoulder had healed, a fact he hadn't noticed until now - but six months? He bit back another retorted and kept jumbled thoughts to himself. He realized now he needed time to figure out exactly where he would go next, given that his world had significantly changed. He shot Siovahn one last look, pocketed the chip and headed for the door.
Perhaps, she should have broken that bit of news to him a bit more gently. Oh well, he deserved a bit of a shock. Siovahn smiled, the games were about to begin and this time she had a role to play rather than just a seat in the audience. He would call.