go back to sleep Who: Nikita and some NPCs When: Midday to Early Evening Where: Nikita's home, then an abandoned warehouse. Warning: Blood, Violence, Death
Nikita woke before opening her eyes. There was a brief moment of comfort before the rest of her body decided to join in. The second it did, she was awash in pain. Her limbs ached and she was sure her head would have felt better if someone had beaten her skull with a baseball bat. It hurt to exist, it hurt to think -- and yet her entire being defied her in doing just that. She made an attempt to open her eyes, a difficult feat considering that her eyes felt as though they had been sealed shut. The world beyond her eyelids was bright and harsh; she had forgotten to draw the shades on the window. Nikita had forgotten a lot of things last night. The pain of the sunlight on her unprepared eyes made her head throb. She brought her hands up to cover her face and wipe the sleep from them. The skin of her cheeks was rough and covered with something. Blood. Tears. Nikita pushed herself up the bed into a sitting position. She had moved slow to keep herself from getting sick, but her motion was deterred when the pillow she had been sleeping on came up with her. The blood kept the two of them fused together and removing it felt as though Nikita was removing a layer of skin from her face. It was little more than an annoyance when compared to the ache in her every nerve. She looked around the room, from the bed to the floor and down to her clothes. It looked as though someone had been murdered; Nikita wished that that had been the case.
The television in her room popped on. The TV had been set to turn on so that she could watch the news as she got ready for the day. The noise faded into the background as her mind drifted, far from the events of last night. She had wanted to get up early to see Silvia off to school. She had wanted to be a good mother. Nikita brought her hands into her lap, finding that one of them was still clasped around her cellphone. Had she not let it go the entire night? Ignoring the dried blood that caused the keys to stick, she sent the young girl a text in an attempt to make herself feel better -- it didn't.
"The young girl, Kristen Peloe, was not harmed in the attack, but police are increasing their watch of the school neighborhoods." Nikita's eyes snapped to the television. Panic set into her at the sound of the name. She had missed the entire story. No. What had happened? Through the fog of her mind she recalled Missy's words, "Kris had a bad day". She looked back down to her phone; Missy's number had already been punched in. No! Nikita couldn't talk to Missy -- not after last night, perhaps never again. She sent the other woman a text before she had time to consider it. Idiot. What would the hunter think? That they had worked out their differences and were friends now? Rage filled her -- anger at herself for making the call last night and anger with Missy for not hanging up. The other woman was supposed to hate her, she was supposed to want her dead; how was Nikita to handle the fact that everything that had kept her going wasn't true? She cried out, an angry scream, and threw her phone across the room with such force that when it hit the wall it shattered into several tiny plastic pieces. The violence made her feel better, but the small death of the electronic device wasn't enough to comfort her.
She pushed herself off her bed and attempted to find her feet. If there was any good to be found in the morning, it was the fact that there was no one else to bear witness to the embarrassing state she was in. Nikita didn't even bother with the buckles on her shoes. Instead she used her strength to rip the strap free. It didn't matter if the heels were ruined; she had no intention of ever wearing them again. As she walked to the shower, Nikita began to peel off her clothes from last night. The image in the mirror caught her eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. Her blood-stained clothes were gone, but her skin was stained red from where her tears had soaked through. Her turquoise eyes were cold as she looked over her naked body. Anger filled her, but it was different from the emotion that had comforted her before. Last night had changed everything. Nikita finally moved and opened the glass door to her shower. She lingered there longer than she would have otherwise. The water had been turned up to near boiling temperatures, but no matter how hard Nikita scrubbed at the skin on her face, she could still feel the lingering of those tears on her cheeks. For a moment, she wished that she were human. She wished that the everything that had entered her system last night -- that had made her call Missy in the first place -- could cloud her mind and keep her from remembering, but while Nikita experienced the brief joys of a hangover, her mind would never forget. Every word, every sound, she recalled in great detail. She didn't want this. She couldn't handle this. Rage rushed over her again and, in another flurry of motion, Nikita slammed her fist into the tile of the shower wall. The hit cracked the ceramic and splintered off into her shaking fist. The sting of pain superseded the ache in her heart. She watched with no expression as the water hit her bleeding hand and washed the wound clean until it healed over.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she finally left the shower, got dressed, and headed down the stairs to her home-office.
"Good afternoon, Miss Vostrikova." Nikita didn't even bother to look at Annie as her assistant greeted her. She walked straight to her desk and sat down, busying herself with the many papers that covered its surface. It wasn't unusual for her to be cold, but often she would offer the other woman a glance in response at the very least. She continued on, despite her boss's obvious lack of interest. "You have two messages," Annie reached out to hand the pink slips of paper to Nikita. When she was ignored, she sat them down to the side of the desk. "The car will be coming soon to take you to your appointment."
"I need a new phone." Nikita was still not looking at the other woman.
"O-okay... What happened to the other--"
"I need a new phone." Nikita looked up from her desk. The look in her face was so absent of emotion that it was disturbing. Her eyes locked onto Annie's before she continued. "And if it looks anything like the last one, I will break it across your face and force you to eat the pieces. Are we clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." There was a quiver in her voice that told Nikita that her assistant knew she was serious. Annie turned and left her to her work at last.
The papers she was trying to read might as well have been written in another language. Whatever meaning they had was lost on Nikita as her mind drifted away from her work. "I miss you too, Nikita." Last night those words had comforted her; she distinctly remembered being thrilled to hear that Missy missed her. Today, those words made her feel a new set of emotions completely, but the familiar anger was always present. The blonde didn't have the right to miss her. It was her fault that the two of them weren't together, happy. It was her fault that Nikita felt the need to draw a weapon every time Missy walked into a room. There was a chance that it all been a lie, that everything Missy had said was just to entertain her in an effort to find a weakness to exploit. Nikita wished that she could genuinely believe the later to be true.
Annie finally returned. Her entrance interrupted Nikita's thoughts, and for that she was thankful. The device was placed in her opened palm without a word save, "The car is here." She nodded in understanding, dismissing her assistant from her presence. The new phone was already buzzing with responses from her previous outward texts. She answered Silvia first, a little disheartened to hear that, despite the offer, the young were might not need her help with homework at all. Had she really been that excited to do something as ordinary as homework? Yes, terribly so. Nikita had to stop and consider her words before answering Missy. She wanted to curse her. She wanted to threaten her, but the echos from the night before were still ringing in her ears. Despite what the other woman might think, she kept her words as civil as she possibly could and it was a fight to do that. There was a moment, the briefest of seconds, in which Nikita thought that maybe she might be able to visit Kristen without having to worry about what hurtful things Missy might say to her. But the response she received proved how wrong that delusion was. The hunter had certainly not hesitated to deal her venom and anger returned to consume her.
Her appointment took her to the other side of Scarlet Oak, to an abandoned warehouse where she was to meet some middle-man who was handling a weapons sale. The car ride was long enough for Nikita's mind to wander once again. "When I’m not having nightmares, I dream of you." She nearly crushed the glass of -- unspiked -- blood in her hand at the memory. Why had she felt the need to tell Missy about her dreams? Why was it so important that the blonde know that Nikita dreamed of a life with her, a family? She had abandoned that hope when she became a vampire, but Missy had made her think, for a while at least, that she could be happy with someone again. Missy had taken that happiness and destroyed it the second she pulled a gun on Nikita.
The car finally stopped. One of her men opened the door and she stepped out into the almost empty space; anger rolling off of her in waves. Across from her stood a man and two crates that held her guns. It was not the first time that Nikita found herself the only woman in a room full of men, but it was the first time that she was actually happy for that fact. In her current mood, she wanted nothing even remotely feminine around her. "Did you bring everything?" She walked up to the man. He was a deal shorter than her, a fact that she would have found amusing any other day.
"Did you bring the money?" Nikita didn't like the way he spoke to her. His voice was high for a man and carried an arrogance that wasn't fitting for someone that was a measly runner. He wasn't even her equal and he felt that he could speak to her as though she were beneath him. She raised a eyebrow at his boldness, turning to gesture toward her other man -- there were three in her employ that had joined her on this trip -- who held a briefcase containing the amount they had agreed on. "I want to count it."
"No." Her voice was as firm and unmoved as her face.
"My boss said to make sure it was all there!" It took everything in her to not let her lip curl in disgust at the sound of the man's sniveling voice.
"Then your boss can count the money himself. We have done business before, he and I, he should know that I am true to my word." Nikita was in no mood to argue with this drone. He was nothing to her, just as all other runners were to those they worked for. They were a dime a dozen, easily replaceable. She glared at him, daring the small man to question her again. He shifted uneasily under her gaze -- something was not right. Nikita had done enough deals in her time to know when something wasn't as it should be. "Did you bring all the weapons? Answer me now."
"Of course I did!" It hit her in her gut. The pathetic weasel was lying to her. She looked back to the three men behind her, giving them a nod and a silent order. It was not the first time she had had to deal with such a hiccup. Two of her large vampires came up to the side of the man, grabbing him securely by the arm; the third approached one of the crates and effortlessly ripped off the top. He studied the contents a moment before turning to the second crate and doing the same. Shaking his head when he looked back to Nikita, he spoke, "It's not all here.*"
A laugh rolled out of Nikita. It echoed in the empty building, which only exaggerated it's haunting sound. "Thank you," she said finally.
"F-for what...?" The man looked so incredibly confused. It only made her laugh harder.
"You won't believe how much I've wanted to kill something today." She smiled at him, flashing her fangs. His eyes grew wide, but his face lacked the fear that it should have. That would change soon enough. She pulled out the pistol that had been tucked away in her jacket pocket. Aim had never been her specialty, but there were other means by which she could hit her intended target. Her eyes flashed to her men, telling them to hold him steady. She surrounded them in a glamour to keep any passerby from overhearing them before she pressed the muzzle of her gun to the man's leg above the knee. Nikita fired the weapon before he had time to react. He screamed out in pain; much like his voice, it was incredibly too high pitched for a man. She tilted her head to the side to look down at his leg. At such a close range the bullet had decimated his knee cap and there was little there that connected the man's thigh to his calf muscle. So that's what happens. Learn something new... Nikita moved the gun to the other leg. The moment the metal touched him, the man began to blubber and cry. It was disgusting. "Where are the rest of my guns?" He began to hyperventilate and his eyes went distant. "You're going into shock? Already?" Weakling. She slapped him once and then again because it felt so go the first time. "Where. are. the rest. of my guns?" Nikita pressed the muzzle of the gun into his leg until he yelped with pain.
"A-a few miles back. There's a shed off the side of the road. B-buried behind it." Between crying and fighting the urge to pass out, the man could barely speak. Where was his better-than-thou tone now?
"Go get the guns. Come back as soon as you're done.*" At her words, the vampire who had opened the crates moved over to the car and within moments he was gone. Nikita turned her attention back to the man. "Lay him down.*" She was speaking to her men holding him, but her eyes never left the weak vermin's face. He screamed again as the repositioning tugged at his loose limb. "I don't like liars." Her voice was cold as she straddled him and sat on his stomach, making sure that his arms were locked beneath her strong legs. She reached out to grab his jaw, squeezing his mouth shut as he began to make more sounds of pain. It wasn't that she minded hearing him cry out, but she was trying to talk. Nikita leaned forward so that their faces were looking at one another again. "If you knew me, knew my life, you might find that ironic. I live by lying about who I am." She laid her gun beside his head and reached back into her pocket for her butterfly knife as she spoke. "But when people lie to me, to hurt me, well..." Nikita opened the knife with the flourish of skill that came from years of practice. "You can imagine how it makes me feel." The man began to make sounds against his closed lips. He was trying to speak. How cute. She released his mouth for a moment to hear what he had to say.
"I didn't mean any harm! Honest! I just needed the money. My fam--" Nikita roughly closed his mouth again.
"Again with the lies!" Her voice was loud and harsh against the silence of the warehouse. "Am I not without my needs? My own feelings?" There was still confusion in the man's face, but it was overshadowed by the fear. He had every right to be confused. Nikita's anger had nothing to do with being cheated; it had nothing to do with this pathetic man. "I will not hear any more of your fucking lies." She forced the man's mouth open and in one fluid motion grabbed at his tongue, extended it, and sliced it out of his mouth. There was a pause before he screamed again, as though the reality of what had just happened took a moment for his brain to process. Nikita glared at him. She felt no sympathy, no mercy -- the only thing in her body was hate. She dropped the bit of flesh in her hand into his open mouth and forced it shut again, letting his own tongue and blood block his airway. Just like the rest of him, his final fight was a pathetic one. He finally passed out -- from lack of oxygen or shock, she had no idea. Nikita grabbed her gun and rose slowly off of him, but did not move to walk away. The two vampires watched in silence, knowing better than to disturb her before she gave word that all was said and done. She pointed her gun down at his unconscious body. Once the first shot was taken, the rest were dealt in rapid success. She squeezed the trigger again and again until the gun clicked. Nikita popped the clip out and replaced it with the spare she always had somewhere on her. Again she rapid fired; each shot grew more wild as the bones within her hand began to vibrate and the kickback made her entire arm go numb. The gun clicked once more, but still she pulled the trigger. The man that had just a moment earlier stood before her, so proud of himself for scamming a vampire crime-lord, lay a bloody mess on the ground. He didn't even look like a man anymore. Nikita stood in silence, staring at the wreck of blood and gore, until the sound of the returning car filled the building. She finally looked at the two standing men; their faces were unmoved by what they had just witnessed. "Take care of this mess.*" It was all she said before turning and getting into the black vehicle.
She sat in the backseat, looking down at her hands in her lap. Her entire front was covered in blood, just like this morning, but it wasn't tears that soaked her clothes. Nikita should have felt better. She should have felt something, anything, but all that filled her was emptiness.