Faye Valentine (poker_alice) wrote in indarkness_logs, @ 2010-08-31 02:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, 2032 08, faye valentine |
RP: Make it go away!
Characters: Faye (narrative)
Time/Date: Early morning, August 31
Location: Her room (#306), 3rd floor hallway
Warnings/Rating: R, for descriptions of violence
Summary: Faye stumbles across more than she bargained for.
Status: complete
[This is what she sees. Only, y'know, in human form. If you can imagine that. And a warning? It is very violent.]
Faye wasn't very interested in the outright smut or the vulgar comedy, but the action... Now, that was something she could appreciate. Strong men with guns, femme fatale types kicking major ass without bothering to take names... Yeah, that was worth watching. (Even better that she had the chance to tease Jayne a bit over his cameo.)
But there was something about the program labeled "Spike, Electra, Vincent" that she could not ignore. Part of her really didn't want to know, but another part of her suggested that it was likely not to be pornographic. After all, Jayne's hadn't been the threesome the title seemed to promise. And even if it was... Could she really live with the curiosity?
No. No, she couldn't. Faye pressed the 'select' button and waited for the channel to change.
The first thing she saw was that lanky bastard completely ignoring a toll gate at the metro station... And she wasn't quite sure whether she should admire the way he moved or pray it wasn't about to turn into some creepy form of exhibitionism. She settled for the former when more of the situation pieced itself together. Vincent got on a train, Electra barely made it in after him... Spike, of course, wouldn't let the closed doors or moving train stop him. So there he went, creating havoc in his wake just like always.
Funnily enough, Faye found herself rooting for Spike from the moment he burst through the window. Obviously, he was a member of her crew and Vincent was a twisted creep; but it went beyond that. She felt for a few seconds as if she were watching a movie, sitting in the audience while cheering for her anti-hero of choice. (Because there wasn't a single ounce of true hero in the lunkhead, according to her.)
And then she saw Vincent's gun. The huge, monstrous... She didn't even want to think of what caliber the rounds were, let alone in comparison to Spike's ammo. The shooting began, and she found it difficult to breathe. Adrenaline coursed through her body, mixing with the fear she held for the man she loved. Part of her reasoned that he had to survive, but another part of her wasn't so sure. With all the talk of the dead being alive on the island and Spike's own talk about having nine lives... She wasn't sure what was real or imagined, anymore; and it was made all the worse by the simple fact that she hadn't yet run into Spike in person.
Faye crawled to the edge of the bed, allowing one leg to hang over as she practically glued herself to the television. Her hands were shaking, and her heart pounded... She even shrieked a little when the passenger was killed. Not because it was an innocent life lost, but because the man's head was all that stood between the bullet and Spike. The blood, the brain matter... that could have been his! Then she saw Lee Samson huddled in the corner, and she realized something disturbing. This was it, the encounter Vincent had spoken about after transferring the vaccine to her. Was it a hoax, created with the intentions of hurting her?
No. She saw his eyes, and she 'knew' it was no hoax. Those were the eyes which had been permanently burned into her brain, the mismatched shades of brown which haunted her on the worst of nights. This was real. This was...
"Just shoot him!" she screamed at Spike's televised doppleganger. Why was he concerned more with the stupid 300-mil than his own life? Why didn't he just kill Vincent?! Why did she expect him to succeed, when she knew Vincent survived until Halloween? Why... did Vincent just shoot Electra instead?!
Faye was so confused, she couldn't keep up with the action. She saw the violence, the blood, and jumped in literal joy when she saw Spike take over to kick Vincent's psychopathic ass. The man had such skill, such finesse... Maybe that was even part of why she loved him. He deserved his cocky overconfidence.
But, apparently, so did Vincent. He reached upward, took hold of Spike's chest, and...
Her eyes widened just as Spike's did, and bile rose to the back of her throat when she heard the tell-tale sound of cracked ribs. Her fingers curled tightly into fists, fingernails digging deep into her palms. She wanted to kill Vincent. She wanted to slaughter him for daring to hurt her man. Even if he wasn't really her man, and even if she'd never really have the honor of killing Vincent... That didn't matter. Not at the moment. Her jaw clenched tightly, her thoughts begging Spike to get up. To fight. To be okay. To stop gasping for air as if he were at death's doorstep!
But he didn't, and the situation only got worse. Faye couldn't breathe. She tried to, but the breath caught in her throat, further emphasizing the taste of bile from earlier. She watched in horror, her eyes growing moist as the knowledge sank in that Spike held no hope of getting out of this one.
With the sound of the gunshot, tears rolled down her cheeks. She watched as the bullet tore right through him, sending blood toward the... She supposed it was a camera or something, and wasn't in any state to wonder how or why it had been filmed. She watched as he fell from the broken window, looking so lifeless already... It reminded her of the fight with Vicious, of seeing him fall. The same way, through a broken window, to what was nearly his death. She remembered running to his aid, then... and felt a pang of terror at the realization that she wasn't there to help him, this time. It was the past, but somehow that didn't matter in her current emotional state.
One hand flew to her mouth, and Faye doubled over, choking on her attempts to breathe through the lump in her throat. She didn't see the rest, as what little remained when she looked back to the screen was blurred by the moisture in her eyes. She felt sick, but she couldn't even bring herself to retch. She just... sat there at the edge of her bed, trembling even as the scene came to an end. She didn't care about the explosion, didn't care about Electra's survival. She cared about the man who had been cast into the water.
She felt hollow yet angry at the world all the same. It felt as if she'd lost him all over again.
In a nearly zombie-like trance, Faye wiped her eyes and wandered from her room. She didn't bother putting anything on her feet or turning the television off; she just wandered through the hallway as a means of going somewhere else. Her instinct to run was tugging at the edge of her mind, and she'd just go insane if she remained in the room.
She wasn't sure what to do, however; and she was too afraid of trying to find Spike's room - afraid that she'd find nobody there. Or, worse, that she'd find him dead. It was a silly fear, but she couldn't help it. She'd lost him already, and the knowledge that her captors wished to air such horrid things didn't make her confident in his presence. Especially after the dim-witted idiot (albeit a dim-witted idiot she deemed worthy of her affection) had taunted one of them in the network.
So she just walked slowly along the hallway, hoping that somehow the motion would erase from her mind what she'd seen. Though she eventually managed to cease the tears, her eyes bore the tell-tale signs of distress, from the pure emotion hiding behind them to the redness and swelling.
Faye was a mess. And, in one of those rare moments of being too upset to care, she didn't bother trying to hide it. She may as well have been back on the Bebop, watching him walk into Death's arms yet again.