add it up (narrative/aeon flux)
What Hannibal Lecter (yes, Lestat had kept tabs despite his promise not to. Of course he had) had done to Aeon Flux was a thing that fell into several categories, as far as the vampire could tell.
One: It was torture. Lestat never really went in for torture. At least, not the outright kind. Two: It was methodical, and planned thoroughly--two things the vampire was incapable of. Three: It was cruel. Cruel in a way that made Lestat think of himself as a younger fiend... and this was not necessarily a good thing. Four: It was absolutely and entirely unconscionable.
Lestat approved entirely.
He could keep going, too, and was aware that, if he were to cackle like a maniac right now and were there to be a clap of not-so-subtley placed thunder, he would bear a resemblance to a certain Sesame Street muppet. Lestat did not care. One, ONE obsession! Ah ah ah!
Five: It was smart. He'd created a weakness where so very few had existed before. Lestat never met Aeon Flux, nor did he particularly want to. She was boring, except for the part about dying over and over. Point, shoot, kill. Unleash venom. Fornicate. Rebel. Blah blah, rinse and repeat.
Six: It was almost sweet, wasn't it? Hannibal hurt Aeon for hurting River. Lestat would have done the same. Hell, Louis would have done the same--and Louis had. Lestat appreciated vengeance in a way that Hannibal would appreciate an exceptionally well-done anatomy drawing. He understood the whys and hows of the machine, and he knew for a fact that, with few exceptions, he could do it better.
Seven: It gave him something to do.
Creating a phobia in a powerful, angry spy was fantastic. Lestat could not write this better than it already was. No.
Aeon Flux was afraid of drinking straws. Or, okay. Maybe afraid was the wrong word. But she could not be near them, could not use them, could not even look at them.
Across the City from Hannibal, waking slowly from the day, Lestat caught an errant thought. It was not for him, but it was amusing enough for him to grab and it was from one of his two favorite minds, not including his. Hannibal had a strong desire to send Aeon Flux a large box of drinking straws.
Lestat smiled slowly. He rose from his bed and picked up a phone, asking with his best polite voice for information, and the number of the grocery store nearest Flux's apartment.
"Yeah, Shop-N-Go?" Lestat smiled. The smile was almost audible on the other end of the phone. "Yes, hello. Do you sell drinking straws?" "Uh. Yeah. Couple kinds." "Do you have a box of them lying around, ma chere?" The teenage girl on the other end of the phone giggled. She had, he knew not the first clue what he'd just said to her. "What, uh, what kind? I mean, we have the kind that bends. And we have the straight kind. And I think we might have those crazy ones, y'know? With the swirls in them and stuff?" "Use your discretion." "A box. One?" "Oh no, dear. No. I mean a big box. The large cardboard affairs they send you the smaller ones in. One of those." The girl giggled. "Why?" "Never you mind. If you can find one, I'll be by to pick it up in twenty minutes, alright beautiful?"
The girl said alright.
Twenty minutes later, Lestat stood under flourescent supermarket lights, blond hair pulled back, leather jacket unzipped and bright blue shirt peeking out of it. Dark glasses hid his eyes, which popped even more unnaturally because of the shirt. A curvy girl (society, Lestat knew, would call her fat because she was larger than average, but all the right parts were therefore larger than average) with large, almond-shaped eyes and a bright smile presented him with a big cardboard box. He thanked her. She blushed. As he was walking away, she realized he'd slipped two hundred dollar bills into her hand.
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Aeon's meeting with the demon left her emotionally exhausted. When she finally got home, that night, she walked past the kitchen, right into the bedroom, and kicked off her boots and her clothes before donning a black tank top and loose black pants. She wanted that spoon full of ice cream she was so prone to. Dean was not here.
Eyebrows furrowed, mind racing over what the demon said... that she could be out of there, that she could go back to where Una... Aeon pulled open the drawer in her kitchen that held the silverware.
It was full of straws.
Aeon stepped back, hand clapping over her mouth. She had never had a panic attack before, but she knew she was about to have one. And something told her...
Eyebrow arching, angry now that someone had been here, knowing what she would find, Aeon pulled open all her drawers, all her cabinets...
All of them were full of straws.
She backed out of the room, slowly, breath hitching, and turned to the dining room table. A single box of the drinking implements sat there, and underneath, a note, beautifully written in a hand she did not recognize. Sinking into the chair, angrily, breathing far too fast, Aeon picked up the paper and read its elegant, spidery hand:
Dear Ms. Flux,
Do forgive an intruder, but it was absolutely irresistable.
River Tam is not the only person in The City who can read minds. She is also not the only person who cares what happens to a certain doctor, nor is she the only person capable of ending your life. Should you feel it necessary to continue your panic attack by way of grabbing that lovely .35 on your hip, I'd advise against it. Not even you can find me, doll.
You'll be finding those things for weeks. I've hidden them everywhere.
Enjoy.
Lestan Gregor
P.S.: Obviously, I hold both River and Hannibal in high regard. Should the tricks he pulled not work, should you revert to your normal vocation and your hunting of either of them, I will be waiting.
Aeon scowled. And without a sound, she slid the lense in her eye into place, scanning the paper. No trace of oils, no fingerprints.
She put the paper down. And carefully, she got out of the chair, went back to her room, and pulled a long-sleeved shirt over her head, sliding shoes back onto her feet. She could not deal with this right now.
Lestat saw her leave her building. He threw his head back and laughed.