faith_5_by_5 (faith_5_by_5) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-04-03 15:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | faith lehane, grace hutchinson |
Need a New Tune
Drip, drip, drip ...
Three twenty-two in the morning, and the bar on the corner of Division and Clark was silent except for the pattering of liquid as it ran down the side of the dark wood of the counter to form a puddle on the floor. Grace padded through a spray of broken glass, listening to it crunch under her shoes, climbed up on the counter. She began to walk the length of it, kicking ashtrays and beer mugs out of her way indifferently, letting them spill their contents onto the hardwood floor. It had been closing time when she arrived, and she surveyed the fruits of her labor from her vantage point as she continued her trek along the narrow surface. There was blood in her hair. It wasn't hers.
Drip, splash, drip ...
She hadn't done this in a while, committed mass homicide, but it had been the only way to take the pressure off. When she was uncomfortable inside her skin, someone else usually ended up paying for it. The only people present had been the bartender, the guy mopping the floors, and two overly made-up barflies, one of whom had tried to run from her. The vampire watched blood trickle down the slick surface of the mirror, the bottles splattered with the stuff. The carotid artery made such a wonderful spray.
"These boots are made for walkin',
And that's just what they'll do,
One of these days these boots are gonna
Walk all over you ..."
She'd better clear out. After hours or not, the cops would swing by soon enough, and she wanted to get gone before that happened. Grace jumped down from the bar, wiped up some of the blood with her index finger, then stuck the digit in her mouth. She stepped over the discarded mop on her way to the back door, the tension drained out of her shoulders. Now she'd be able to sleep the day away.
Even after staking three vampires on the night, Faith was wired. She usually felt a surge of adrenaline when it came time to slay, but that sensation seemed magnified in the nights following her release from prison. It served the Slayer well, now that she'd shaken off the rust from having gone a few weeks without so much as throwing a punch (there were no vampires in county ... or if there were, Faith never saw them).
Still, it was annoying on some level for Faith to still be wandering the back alleys and cemeteries of Chicago at almost 3:30 in the morning. Then again, the Slayer's life wasn't really one for daylight hours, was it? Faith had to sleep sometime, and with her nights often booked solid with monster fighting or dealing with whatever drama she found herself in at that moment, the daytime was really her only sanctuary.
God, was that what Faith was coming to? Looking forward to sleep, even as adrenaline coursed through her veins and she cut into yet another alley in search of a vampire to stake? She shook her head, chalking it up to being in her 30s now. That magic number seemed to have a way of messing with everyone.
Her steps slowed once Faith was deeper in the alley, a trembling in her gut giving her an all-too-familiar warning. A vampire was nearby, and judging from the smell that slowly fluttered toward the Slayer's nostrils, the creature just had itself one hell of a good time. Pulling her stake from the inner pocket of her denim jacket, Faith backed up against the brick wall, peering over the corner.
Sure enough, there was a vampire. But not just any bloodsucker ... this one made Faith's heart stop for a moment.
Grace. Fuck.
Her relaxed state aside, Grace was not so completely unaware that she missed the way her skin prickled, and she pushed blood-matted hair off of the back of her neck to get at the spot as she recognized Faith hunkered against the wall as if she were trying to hide. Her pace slowed, and she came to a stop a safe distance away, out of leaping range. Her posture remained loose as she studied the Slayer under the yellow light coming in from the street, but her gaze sharpened into something more watchful and alert. Something lethally smart, like a battle-scarred wolf that walked its territory without fear.
"Small world." Knowing the door to the bar was hanging open behind her and she could use that as a back-up route if she had to. Otherwise, she had no intention of doing anything but leaving through the mouth of the alley like a decent person. "You caught me at the tail end of somethin'," she added, knowing the brunette could probably smell it on the breeze. The blood-smell always clung to her until she'd had at least three hot showers. "Was figurin' to cruise on before the fuzz showed, but now I figure I can hang out for a while. Considerin' where you've been, any cop with a brain will just think you did it."
Grace seldom paid attention to the news unless she was going to be the subject of it somehow, but she'd heard it on the whisper-stream that a Slayer had been run in for murder, and seemed like a laugh to check it out. She still had the latest press clipping where she'd snipped it out of the Sun-Tmes. "You photograph really badly, by the way. I guess bright orange jail togs are a good look for no one."
"They might," Faith mused with a surprising calm. "Ya know, until they looked through the evidence and saw your prints everywhere. Bet that'll be fun, tellin' the cops how you're walkin' around when your prints turn up some dead girl."
Tempting as it was to make the first move, the Slayer knew she couldn't. Not yet. The vampire was too far away to tackle in one move, and the door swinging open behind her would make for a convenient escape route ... and for some reason, Faith knew Grace would be cowardly enough to take it. Taunt and run, that seemed to be the style, and honestly? The quip about Faith being in the slammer was so pathetic it didn't afrfect the Slayer at all.
Hell, if anything, it was kinda funny.
"Bet you had fun knowin' I was in jail," she added. "Little too much fun, probably. Probably had a nice little party with your Hot Topic Barbie."
"Mmm. Somebody's not pissin' themselves anymore. I didn't know better, I'd say Nathan lied. Except he doesn't give enough of a shit to lie, especially about you. Chicken shit."
It figured that trash like this would hold off when she couldn't get the first cheap shot in. The goody-goods were persnickety like that; if they couldn't catch you with your pants down they were a lot more cautious. "And it's a funny thing about dead folks," she continued, hooking one thumb over her shoulder at her latest one-woman show. "Cops have a tendency to go ahead and arrest the most obvious suspect when they can, and that would be you, Ms. Murder Rap 2001."
Because yeah, now she knew that too, had gone online for once and done some checking. No wonder they'd busted her right on the spot, given her history. It was such a scream. Grace altered her posture, still casual but ready to go to the mat if it became necessary. This one looked a lot better with urine - or blood - running out of her like a fucking faucet. Just turn on the tap and watch her leak!
"You remember that time when I almost killed you? You still got that knife on you?"
Faith couldn't help but chuckle. There Grace was, trying to be all intimidating and insulting and get into the Slayer's head, when the reality was she was merely providing some unintentional entertainment. Considering how much time had passed since Faith's first stint in prison, someone bringing that up did little to phase her anymore -- especially when the person trying to get under her skin was some white trash vampire with a Jerry Springer drawl and as much class as en episode of Cops.
"Ya know, come to think of it," the Slayer shot back, "I've been meaning to give that back to you."
Stepping out from her perch on the wall, Faith shrugged her shoulders, holding her arms out on either side of her, stake tightly clutched in her right hand. She gave Grace the once-over, deciding with a smirk she looked no better than she did the last time they'd bumped heads. Ears checked for a siren, but there was none to be heard. Maybe Faith would luck out and they could finish this before the cops showed.
That would be easiest for all.
"So, we gonna do this, or are you gonna spend all night throwin' insults at me?"
"I prefer solid objects. Thanks for askin'."
The floor of the alley was littered with stuff, everything from beer bottles to splintered boards, and Grace bent down and picked up half a brick to wind up and throw it at the Slayer's head before rushing the brunette in a motion that was nearly a blur. If she was blocking one thing, it'd be hard for her to block a second at the same time, that was common sense. Pale fingers closed around the Slayer's right wrist, slammed the hand with the stake in it backwards against the brick wall to pin it above her head. Hopefully the bitch would gag on the blood smell. Then again, why would a fellow murderer get squeamish about blood?
There was a fun thought, that parallel.
"I liked you better when you were bleeding to death."
So busy was Faith in avoiding the flying Budweiser missile, Faith hadn't noticed Grace bum-rushing her until she had already been dragged to the ground and the stake rolled about 12 feet or so away. Flexible as she was, there was no way the Slayer could reach the weapon from where she was as long as Grace was straddling her. Faith gritted her teeth and wondered how many times this had happened in Grace's head -- for all she knew, the vampire had some sick fascination with Faith that went places the Slayer would've rather it didn't.
Still, Faith smiled. This was more like it.
"Sorry to disappoint," she replied, lifting her shoulders and ramming her forehead against Grace before using her free hand to take a shot at the vampire's kidneys. Permanent damage, no, but with any luck it would still hurt like a bitch.
"Good thing I don't really care what you think of me."
The kidney punch made Grace grunt, and she ground Faith's wrist harder against the rough surface of the bricks before lifting a knee into the Slayer's breadbasket. One thing about needing to breathe, if you got the wind knocked out of you, those lungs could protest the situation. Her unoccupied hand started a fast, brutal series of jabs to the brunette's sternum, striking the tough bone like a drumbeat.
"You remind me of the bitch I killed. She was a Slayer too, a Slayer and a murderer, just like you." The vampire stopped hitting her opponent, brought one knuckly hand up to the brunette's throat, going to her windpipe. "It's like ... one of them there parables, from me to her, and from her to you. A teaching experience. You'd be surprised what you can learn just by watching. Watching her self-destruct, watching you nearly bleed out. Fun stuff."
It was a good thing Faith had strong bones; otherwise, she might've been truly worried about the barrage of fists cracking against her sternum. Sure, they hurt, but in the grand scheme of things, they were hardly more than an annoyance ... especially as Faith was gasping in an effort to get her breath back after the initial hit.
Her arms moved about frantically as oxygen gradually became available once more, and as the vampire continued punching her in the chest, the Slayer used that opportunity to grab a lead pipe laying to her right, swinging her arm out and slamming the pipe against the back of Grace's head.
If nothing else, if allowed Faith to return to her feet.
"You need a new tune," she barked. "That whole bleeding out thing's getting old."
The comparison to the Slayer Grace supposedly killed -- like Faith was going to believe anything she said -- did little for her, because Faith never met this other Slayer, nor did she know of the circumstance. For all Faith knew, that Slayer could've just been some story Grace cooked up to try and get inside Faith's head. Fortunately for Faith, the vampire sucked at head games.
Tackling Grace once more, Faith bashed the pipe against the vampire's forehead until the skin broke and blood poured down her face. The Slayer's free hand grabbed Grace by the collar of her shirt before dropping her back to the pavement so the back of her head hit the concrete.
"I gotta lot of people to answer to for the things I've done," Faith said as she punched the vampire across the nose. "But you ain't one of 'em."
"Nobody said nothin' about answerin', you dumb cunt," Grace snarled, bringing both feet up to drive them into Faith's midsection. Now the blood in her hair was her own, and she crab-walked backwards to put more distance between herself and the Slayer. Bringing herself back to her feet, she picked up a garbage can lid and used it to block the next blow with the pipe, then wound up harder and slammed it into the brunette's shoulder where the force would be almost guaranteed to dislocate the joint. The metal whanged loudly in the enclosed space of the alley, and the vampire twisted her powerful frame and added some torque to her swing as she struck at the mortal's ribs on the opposite side of her body.
"Unlike you, I don't judge. I'm just tellin' you about yourself. That you're diseased."
Clang! went the now-dented metal lid, hitting Faith just below the bend of her left knee, and Grace was swinging for the fences, strong arms powering the makeshift weapon back and forth as efficiently as a piston in an engine. Not even mad, her muscles loose and relaxed from the earlier display of violence. Swing, clang! Swing, clang! Legs, ribs, head, tenderizing the bitch like a piece of steak. They were all meat as far as she was concerned anyway. City-bred veal.
"And you know who misses her, little Miss Samantha? No-fuckin'-body. Not even her kid. For all I know she rotted right into the ground in that alley in Vegas and not even the garbageman noticed her." The Swing, clang! of a head shot. "Isn't it a beautiful thing?"
If the lid against her didn't dislocate Faith's shoulder, the force of her bouncing off the wall certainly did. She gritted her teeth and grunted at the pain, but she didn't scream. Faith would never give Grace that satisfaction. It took several deep breaths and a bite of her tongue for that urge to pass, but it eventually did, and the Slayer brought herself upright once more just in time for the barrage of attacks to begin anew. Each meeting of metal lid and flesh burned, and Faith could feel the skin breaking open along her right cheek. The blood was warm running down the side of her face, and it was almost comforting in that regard.
She couldn't duck the final head shot, but Faith had moved just enough to blunt the force of it. She ducked again, grabbing Grace's left ankle before driving the palm of her other hand into the knee, forcing it to snap in an unnatural direction. With any luck, the bitch would fall to the ground and lose her grip on the lid. The Slayer's side throbbed and she could see stars in front of her face, but adrenaline was coursing through Faith's veins.
Not only did it keep her upright, it also allowed the Slayer to tackle Grace to the ground once more, impaling her in the stomach with the pipe.
Standing again, Faith shook her head. "Nice little hobby you got there," she huffed, shaking hair out of her face. "Spoutin' off about shit you don't know."
"Oh, but I do." Grace was gritting her teeth past the pain in her midsection, and she lashed the edge of her right hand across the base of the Slayer's throat in a vicious swipe, counting on that need-to-breathe thing to disable the brunette. "I know you just like I knew her, and them what have murder in their hearts always destroy themselves eventually, even if they have to get someone else to pull the trigger."
Having gained some space to maneuver, the vampire pulled the invasive piece of metal out of her stomach, listened to the wet ripping noise it made as it came out. Something had been twisted in her knee, but there was no time for self-examination. At any rate, Faith was now down to one good arm, which leveled the playing field. The vampire hauled back with the pipe in hand, launched it at the human as if it were a spear. The blood-stained metal pierced the cloth of the brunette's jeans, pushed on through into the muscle of her thigh. Grace brought up her good leg, stamped at the end of the protrusion as if it were a horseshoe stake, driving it deeper.
"And here I thought you were tired of stabbin'."
Her pained grunt was almost a scream, but Faith managed to bite down on her lip and squeeze her eyes shut just in time. In some ways, having the metal impaled in her thigh hurt worse than a knife to the gut, but the Slayer knew this injury likely wouldn't be the end of her. She took a deep breath to steel her self against the pain, shaking hair out of her face again before glaring at the vampire through hooded eyes, pulling a knife from the holster she kept on her right ankle. The blade glistened under the moonlight for a second, a ragged smile crossing the Slayer's lips.
"What can I say?" she groused. "It's an oldie, but a goodie."
With a growl, Faith shoved the blade into the wound on Grace's stomach, widening the hole and tearing more flesh before she twisted her wrist and the blade inside the vampire. "See, unlike you, I stick with what I know," the Slayer added, bashing the back of her left hand against Grace's cheek. "And what I know is putting down trash like you."
Grace's head snapped to the left, and then she grabbed Faith around the throat with both hands and started to squeeze. At the close quarters, the knife still in her stomach, the Slayer would have two choices; let go of the hilt or quickly find herself with no oxygen to keep her brain functioning. Limping, the vampire forced her opponent against the filthy brick wall, using the knee of her uninjured leg to apply pressure to the edges of the leg wound. She could smell sweat and blood, and her thumbs pressed down harder on Faith's windpipe, the tendons in her arms standing out in sharp relief against pale skin.
"Bet I can kill you before you can kill me."
She banged the back of the Slayer's head against the bricks, and even a thick skull like that should start to rattle from the impact. Keeping up the strangling pressure even as a siren started to wail in the distance, and now maybe the knife didn't hurt so bad. She'd notice it later, of course, but later was later. This was now, and she could swear she saw Faith turning purple. She'd failed to finish the job before, but it she could finish it now before the fuzz got here, all the better.
Letting go of the knife, Faith grimaced at the various sources of pain throughout her body, opening her mouth. She remembered Kathryn once telling her doing that helped when the windpipe was restricted; how, Faith never figured out, but it seemed appropriate to try at this juncture. Gasping for air, Faith brought her good arm up, wedging it between Grace's and using all the strength she could. If she could force even one hand off her throat, she'd be alright.
Hearing the sirens in the distance, Faith added a sense of urgency to her attempt at freedom, forcing the vampire's left arm off her neck before grabbing the wrist and twisting it until the bone snapped in two. Using the newfound freedom, the Slayer wriggled her way out of the other arm's grasp, using her good leg to kick the knife even deeper into Grace's gut. It wouldn't kill the bitch, but at least it got her grummy little paws off the Slayer.
Faith was going to need about 12 showers when she got home. Even that might not remove the stench.
"What are you, 5?" she growled, breaking off a piece of the pipe stuck in her leg and tossing it like a javelin at Grace's forehead. There was just something amusing about imagining the vampire with a metal rod sticking out of her head. As the sirens grew louder, Faith knew that would have to be the last hurrah for this round. She didn't feel like explaining to the police how she was at the scene of yet another crime she didn't commit.
"Wish I could say it was fun," Faith wheezed, backing up with a limp, "but that would be a lie, so ... fuck off."
"Eat my ass." Grace batted the pipe out of the air like an annoyed cat, listened to the sirens getting closer. She watched Faith put distance between them, started to pull the knife out. This was the second time she'd gotten one of the Slayer's knives embedded in her gut. The only difference this time was, she hadn't gotten to return the favor. There was always next time, though. She could hang onto the fucking thing for that long.
The cops were closing in. The law always ruined everything. They'd have a hell of a time with those corpses, though. Grace exited the alley and walked onto the street, as she'd always intended, started off with a thin trail of borrowed blood pattering onto the sidewalk. Who could she call at this hour to come get her beat-up ass?
"Melinda." The vampire limped onwards, nodding to herself as she disappeared into the shadows. The knife was still firmly clenched in bloodstained fingers. Be fucked if she was letting go of her souvenir.