Audrey Jensen (fknaudrey) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-05-13 10:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, percival de rolo |
WHO: Audrey Jensen & Percival de Rolo
WHAT: Cleanup on Aisle 5
WHEN: Thursday, Mid-Afternoon
WHERE: Various
STATUS: Complete
WARNING: Blood, excessive violence, references to past violence, more blood.
She had tried not to think about it when the mask showed up on her bed on Wednesday morning. She had tried not to think about the note, the warning, the choice she apparently had to make. There were far more interesting things to do and, as far as she was concerned, her past could stay in the past where it belonged. And, for most of the day, it did. Gilmore was one of the best distractions she could imagine, and as they unceremoniously robbed Saks of all its prettiest things, she had nearly forgotten about the icy cold cloak of panic that had settled across her shoulders just a few hours ago. But then she saw him. Out the front of the enormous picture windows, past the displays, far beyond where Audrey was standing, she saw him stroll by bold as anything, with no concern for any of the other dangers that may have been roaming the streets. The knife of rage slid up from her chest, into her throat, and she found herself moving towards the windows just to watch him go. And she stayed there until he was gone, too. Until he was just a blur on the street several blocks down, before turning and grabbing her bag off the ground to join Gilmore again. The rest of the day was a blur. She wasn't even sure she slept. Surely, she went through the motions of day-to-day life because no one really seemed to notice any difference. But her mind was focused on one singular thought: he wasn't trying to hide. The city may have been massive, but he wasn't trying to hide and that meant that she could find him. It was pure instinct that drove her, then. The hand of some terrible thing guiding her movements as she woke up on Thursday morning, tucked her knives into pockets and boots and down the back of her jeans, and went out to find him. She was not unaware of the other dangers, but they also didn't matter. If fate or the hotel or whatever wanted this, she would manage to make her way safely through the city to him. And she didn't even have to go far. Eight or ten blocks down from Central Park, she spotted him coming out of a divey little bar stuck between a tattoo parlor and dark diner. There was a bottle in one hand, but he looked clear-eyed and confident. Good. She wanted him sober for this. Audrey cut through an alley and moved a little faster for a moment, coming out a few buildings ahead of him, just on the other side of a dumpster scrawled with yellow graffiti. She merely quirked her head at him, folded her arms, and waited for him to catch her gaze. There was something about Kevin Duval's smile that still made her sick. He didn't say anything at first, as he strolled towards her with a little more enthusiasm in his step. She tried not to recoil as he closed the distance between them and braced one hand on the brick wall next to her head. "Where's your mask, little girl?" he chuckled. "Where's yours?" she countered. "Aren't you supposed to be terrorizing teenagers somewhere? Being a bad dad cliche?" He held up the bottle as if to indicate something, but Audrey didn't take her eyes off of him. She was searching. The outline of a knife, a gun, the same Brandon James mask she had found the morning before. Anything. She didn't expect him to be unarmed. That wasn't how he operated. And he knew the same thing about her. The irony here was that she might have actually admired his work if he wasn't him, if there wasn't all that history between them to account for. If she didn't know his secrets. "How's Emma?" Kevin said, pushing off the wall and feigning a look like he actually gave a damn. Audrey just snorted. "I really don't think you get to know that anymore," she said. "Right," Kevin nodded. "And you're the one who decides now. I keep forgetting." There was no reason she had to justify that comment with a response. She didn't owe him shit, much less an explanation or justification for what she'd done and why she didn't regret any of it. Maybe if he had been less of an overwhelming shitbag, he would know exactly how Emma was doing. And yet, it wasn't really about her, was it? Parts of it had been. But the overwhelming majority of what Audrey had done had been for her own vindication. Until Kevin came back. And then it was about him. "So what're we gonna do, Kevin?" she finally asked. "Are we gonna stand here all day and compare dicks or are we going to actually accomplish something useful?" He grinned at her, and another wave of revulsion rolled up from the pit of her stomach. But she could play this game as long as it took. It was worth it. And the moment he nodded and pivoted back towards the sidewalk she knew it was over. All she needed was one moment when he let his guard down enough to turn his back on her and she had the Buck knife out of the back of his jeans and into the back of his left shoulder. A moment longer and the little knife Sabrina had given her for her birthday was out of her pocket and sliding between his fourth and fifth rib. She didn't just pull either of them out again, she tore with every bit of strength in her body. Fabric, flesh, and muscle ripped. The look on his face when he turned back to her was glorious. It had been every bit her intention to not go for a lethal wound right away. She wanted to hear the gasp and gurgle as a lung filled with blood. She wanted to watch his pupils contract into pinpoints. He moved to reach for something, Audrey caught a flash of matte black on his left side, and the Buck knife slammed in just under his right collarbone. "I wouldn't," she warned, digging the knife a little deeper as she reached out and divested him of his gun. "You literally brought a gun to a knife fight, fuck, you are the worst." She dropped the clip out of it and tossed the gun somewhere behind her, not really caring where it went. She was pretty sure she was supposed to monologue now. That was what villains who spoke always did in slasher films. Michael Myers may not have, but Freddy Kreuger loved to. A witty quip. Something. But since when did she ever follow the rules? He reached up to shove her away, but her movements had been carefully calculated and the muscles required to have any sort of strength behind his protests were simply... irrelevant now. "And here I thought we were past all this," Kevin said, breaking the silence for her. A bit of blood had already worked its way up from his lungs and stained his mouth. He looked strangely resigned. Like he always knew it might end this way. She was satisfied with that. Audrey shook her head. "Jesus forgives, Kevin. I don't." Okay, so maybe one punchy quip was worth the pause. But that's all it was, a pause. She pulled the knife out of his chest, flipped it around, and jerked it across his throat. It was, fittingly, the same move she'd used on Tyler. And in the same way it had that night, outside Nina's house, with the sound of shitty pop music and a jacuzzi roiling in the background, his head lulled back and Audrey found herself just close enough to feel the pulse of blood as he took his last gasping breath. A sense of relief washed over her. She clicked the little purple knife shut and slid it back into her pocket, watching him slump to the ground with an absolutely dispassionate expression. She could have stopped there, she could have. But she had to make certain this one didn't come back. An hour later, Audrey walked back into the Crown Plaza hotel, soaked in blood. Somewhere on the Central Park lawn, she'd stopped long enough to take her boots off and walk barefoot in the grass. She held them by the laces now, in her left hand, a look of exhaustion settled softly on her face. If anyone asked, there were any number of baddies out in the city she could have used as an excuse. But it didn't matter. There was a sense of utter calm about her. So many things had finally clicked into place and the one thing that had been haunting her for years had been left in pieces in an alleyway. Therapy probably would have been better, in long run, and it was still a problem she would have to deal with when they got home - but here, now, she knew she might finally be able to sleep again. She'd started to turn towards the elevators to make her way upstairs when she caught sight of a figure coming towards her. It took her a moment to realize who it was, but when she saw the flash of white hair, she stopped. Waited. Looked up at Percy with an almost vacant expression on her blood-smeared face. "None of it's mine," she said, motioning a similarly bloody hand towards her face. "I'm fine." |