|Patrick wants a life that is (sylvan) wrote in doorslogs,|
@ 2014-03-21 22:06:00
|Entry tags:||cobb, supergirl|
Who: Clem & Alex & a really big car
What: An accident that isn't accidental
Where: Las Vegas Blvd
Clementine's refusal to let him see Jude, her loose lips on the journals, her bitchiness at the very last conversation, it all came to this. He'd told them all once that he didn't believe in violence against women, and he still didn't, he just didn't equate Clementine with being female any longer. There were no goodbyes to Chloe, only a single question about the knife -- wiped, and then placed in his jacket pocket by a gloved hand -- and no promises of 'see you soon' as he went to get the keys from one of her bodyguards: an owner of a giant Hummer with a license plate that read 50CALMIA (these American's with their fucking cars) that went by the name of Gus. Gus with no neck and plenty of skin reddened by the sun and marked with more tattoos than Alexander cared to count gave the keys over easily. He didn't ask any questions and Alexander didn't answer any before he left the building, muscle jumping in his jaw.
The black SUV on steroids gave a chirp when he depressed the button on the key in the parking garage. It was a bloody behemoth, but certain to make any car into scrap metal and any loose lipped traitoresses into a bloody mess of bone and flesh. Such a shame to waste that blood, but he couldn't mourn that. No. There was too much to pay for and if he had to send her off on a fucking river of red, he'd sit on the docks and wave.
The motor roared to life, not like a lean purr of a Jaguar, or the muted rumble of a house tabby, but more like a lion followed by a wet gurgling chum-chum-chum. He floored the gas pedal just to hear it again before releasing the brake and snarling out of the parking place. The police station, that's where he had to go, and that's where he directed the great big beast towards. Wherever she was coming from didn't matter, it only mattered where she thought she was going to go-- and where he was never going to let her get to. Teeth gritted and lips tight, he drove past the police station first, carefully obeying the speed limit. Then again. No sign of her. And again. Up to the light and left, another left, another, one more circle and then he saw her.
Pretty little blonde profile in the back of a cab stopped at a light. He jerked the steering wheel hard down an alley, and doubled back in time to see the impatient cabbie blocking the intersection, waiting to turn. Everything else faded, the driver of the cab, the other cars, their proximity to the police station as Alex stomped on the gas pedal again, swerved into the empty oncoming lane with the needle in the Hummer skating past thirty, forty, and he got to see her face through the windshield in that last second before the hummer came to a plowing halt in the side of the cab. The seat belt jerked him back against the seat as white exploded in his face, dust and bag that made him cough in those few bewildered seconds after collision. Had he gotten her? His shoulder ached where the seat belt had hung onto him and if his hands were shaking as he hit the button to relieve it, he didn't notice. Nor did he notice as he stumbled out of the car and towards the taxi, going down to his knees hard on the pavement, hips hips aching something fierce. He reached the driver first, used the handle on the door to get himself back to his feet and opened the door to yank the man out. "Go, just go," he snarled, tasting blood as he shoved the man towards the nearest curb. Had he bitten himself on impact? The back seat received a very bloody smile and he tossed the knife he'd taken from Chloe into the rear. Catch, Clementine, catch.
No, no, his nose was bleeding, he noticed as he stumbled back to the SUV, one hand on the smoking hood and swayed against the door. Did he go back for her? No. No. Instead he reached for the small dagger -- lean, sharp, good for cutting skin -- he kept sheathed to his calf and cut the airbag out of his way, levered himself up with a groan. "That one was definitely for me," he muttered as he got back inside and threw the Hummer into reverse to ram the car again. For Chloe. Again. For Jude. Again. For her fucking truce. Again. For her smug little face when she wouldn't let him see his brother. His own blood never tasted so sweet as he reversed again, far enough this time that one headlight, the one that hadn't broken on impact shone on her face.
He laughed. Was still laughing as he pulled away, his ribs on the right side aching as the Hummer went limping down the street.