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capeandcowllogs2013-02-18 08:06 am
centurybaby) wrote in capeandcowllogs2013-02-18 08:06 am
falling from high places, falling through low spaces.
WHO: jenny quantum, terrance ward, rick bradbury, and archer.
WHERE: jenny's military camp, southwest phoenicia.
WHEN: late afternoon.
WARNINGS: language/violence/etc.
SUMMARY: the rule of a young tyrant comes to an end.
FORMAT: quick.
[ she hasn't slept in a while-- not really. not more than a few hours here or there. sometimes she even misses her bed and her room on the carrier a little, but she hasn't been back in longer than she cares to acknowledge. not since the porter took her father. not since she set out on the warpath. she's a different person than she was back then. the isolation has changed her a little, maybe. or the reality of what ruling is like. in all the other universes where she becomes humanity's leader, their protector and oppressor, their child-god-- it wasn't like this. maybe because she hadn't had midnighter at her side this time, maybe because she wasn't as powerful as she needed to be.
but it didn't matter. she was here now. there was no backing out.
they're camped out on a dry, hostile mountain side, less than a day off the border. there will be bloodshed soon. people will die for will of this sixteen-year-old girl from another dimension. the spirit of the century is demanding that lives be laid down for her cause. she is, after all, the daughter of the bringer of war, raised by gods and monsters, an incarnation of everything that was ever wrong with this era and every moment of potential it ever had. she's on the brink-- of something.
and on the evening before the last stretch of the battle march, she isn't seeking the council of her strategists, she isn't issuing orders to her men. no. she's called for terry. her right-hand, even if he resists considering himself that. he's her conscience now. the ironic light to her dark. the angry demon spawn, her voice of reason. when he comes to her tent, he'll find her smoking a cigarette, with the black bandana of her regime tied around her forehead. her hair is getting long. her skin is getting dark. and in a rare moment, her expression is less hard and more absent.
she's thinking about how much she misses her father, and if he'd be proud of her now. ]
WHERE: jenny's military camp, southwest phoenicia.
WHEN: late afternoon.
WARNINGS: language/violence/etc.
SUMMARY: the rule of a young tyrant comes to an end.
FORMAT: quick.
[ she hasn't slept in a while-- not really. not more than a few hours here or there. sometimes she even misses her bed and her room on the carrier a little, but she hasn't been back in longer than she cares to acknowledge. not since the porter took her father. not since she set out on the warpath. she's a different person than she was back then. the isolation has changed her a little, maybe. or the reality of what ruling is like. in all the other universes where she becomes humanity's leader, their protector and oppressor, their child-god-- it wasn't like this. maybe because she hadn't had midnighter at her side this time, maybe because she wasn't as powerful as she needed to be.
but it didn't matter. she was here now. there was no backing out.
they're camped out on a dry, hostile mountain side, less than a day off the border. there will be bloodshed soon. people will die for will of this sixteen-year-old girl from another dimension. the spirit of the century is demanding that lives be laid down for her cause. she is, after all, the daughter of the bringer of war, raised by gods and monsters, an incarnation of everything that was ever wrong with this era and every moment of potential it ever had. she's on the brink-- of something.
and on the evening before the last stretch of the battle march, she isn't seeking the council of her strategists, she isn't issuing orders to her men. no. she's called for terry. her right-hand, even if he resists considering himself that. he's her conscience now. the ironic light to her dark. the angry demon spawn, her voice of reason. when he comes to her tent, he'll find her smoking a cigarette, with the black bandana of her regime tied around her forehead. her hair is getting long. her skin is getting dark. and in a rare moment, her expression is less hard and more absent.
she's thinking about how much she misses her father, and if he'd be proud of her now. ]
no subject
it doesn't matter if it's because mitch asked him to, or because he simply isn't willing to see her become something worse. maybe it doesn't matter what his reasons are, only that they've brought him to this moment. unstoppable force meeting immovable loyalty.]
Not any more than you've quit smoking. [ he has no idea what she can do. he has no idea how she'll attack. all he can do is watch, waiting for the perfect opportunity. his ability to gain sudden speed is all he's got going for him, and maybe that ace in the hole will be enough. ]
Sixteen still isn't legal, you know. Unless you changed that law, too. [ his voice may be light, but his gaze is steady and determined. somehow, he's found the resolve to fight.
or maybe it's the frustration of how he left things back home finally coming to a boil. ]
no subject
even she doesn't know what she can do anymore.
fearlessly, calmly, she asks: ]
Are you gonna kill me, Rick?
no subject
Yes.
[ or die trying, his tone implies. the setting sun paints the edge of their faces in red and gold, half in shadow, half in light. if he was the type to appreciate this kind of shit, he might find it poetic. it makes him look older, more worn, the lines of worry highlighted even as he lets his jaw set stubbornly. there's no use in doing things halfway, not when they've come this far. his hands ball into fists at his side but he doesn't make the first move. the time for talking is over, but he ends up asking the question before he can think about it, maybe knowing he has to provoke her or catch her off guard. ]
You ever miss home?
no subject
instead, she asks back, casual as you please, not making any moves away or towards him: ]
You miss your girls?
no subject
[ he says it with simple, candid honesty, the raw emotion audible in his voice. he figures there's no reason to hide it. he takes one step towards her, and another, but he doesn't reach for his gun yet, and he knows he's probably only get one shot at her. if he keeps talking, maybe he'll finally hit a nerve.
he's not sure how much time he has. ]
Those people out there know what they signed up for, Quantum? [ he nods to the distance where the rest of her forces are gathered, where the echo of fighting is just audible, as they engage with the rebels taking advantage of the situation to intercept her troops. ]
How many of them do you trust?
no subject
Trust? I don't trust the man that fucking raised me.
[ bitter little girls who resent their fathers. how many of them must be out there anyway, for the spirit of the century to be incarnated this way? it makes her a little angry, how much she misses midnighter right now, how much she's always missed midnighter, because it always felt right to win with him by her side.
but in the here and now, jenny puts a hand out in front of her. maybe it's just a simple gesture to stop, or maybe it's a threat. with her powers, who knows. ]
That's fucking close enough, Bradbury. Turn around right now. Go home. Go home to your friends, to your stupid fucking job. Go home to Mitch.
no subject
the fact that she invokes mitch now, of all people, startles a bitter, hard bark of laughter out of him. for all that he's the reason he's even here, having the task of taking down jenny quantum was doing a great job of pushing his boss out of his mind. it's funny, in an awful kind of way, that even here he can't get away from it.
it stings, and it shows. yet he's still stupid enough to be here, anyway, ready to kill or be killed for a guy who'd probably never return the favor. ]
Trust's kind of overrated, anyway. [ his voice, to his own ears, sounds distant, like he's hearing someone else speak. even so, his eyes are determined, and he gives her a lopsided grin. ]
As long as you don't care about someone, it doesn't matter if they leave you behind, right?
no subject
it doesn't matter if they leave you behind, right? right?
inside her, there's a little crack that forms-- or widens, maybe, like it's always been there. ever since small, young jenny, hardly five years old, clung to her father and begged him not to leave her, begged him to stay, please-- ]
Yeah, yeah. Boo fucking hoo. Look, Rick, in case you forgot? I'm Jenny Quantum, Spirit of the 21st Century. And if you want to kill me? Pulling your gun out and pointing it at my head might be a good fucking start.
[ a brilliant blue spark of light gathers in the palm she has pointed at him before it bursts forward in a beam, ripping through the air crackling like static, like the very reality around it is strained by the concentration of pure power she unleashes. ]
no subject
lately, though, he's been having to deal a lot with people who never say what they mean, and it's made him better at seeing the small signs for what they are.
humanity.
it's a good thing he's watching her so closely, because when the beam comes at him, he can't do anything but react, letting his powers kick in and take over, the instinct for self-preservation apparently more than happy to step in for actual thought. he moves faster than he should be able to -- faster than human -- and he's closed the gap between them in less time than it takes to blink, reaching out to grab her by the wrist of that outstretched hand.
he could break it, but he doesn't. all he needs is the touch of skin on skin. his grip is firm, but not painful, as he grits his teeth and wills jenny quantum's powers to die down.
he doesn't actually know if it will work, or how much it's going to take out of him to shut down the spirit of the century, and he doesn't want to think of how boned he's going to be if he's wrong. shit, even just the burst of speed has him feeling an ache in his bones, and it's only going to get worse once his body pays the price for fooling around with something that can mess up reality. ]
no subject
and then bradbury's hand finds her small, thin wrist.
the power of a hundred lifetimes, power as old as humanity, power enough to overwhelm a fucking supernova, preserved through every jenny since jenny stone-- it's stifled, suddenly, as if instead of closing his hand around her wrist, bradbury had gripped the very connection between the girl and the universe, cutting it off, draining it away, making the god-child into something less and more fragile.
her eyes go wide and staring, white around brown irises before they roll up into her head and she shudders, swaying, because she is her power, and-- ]
Fuck.
no subject
no, bradbury doesn't need to shut jenny down permanently; all he needs is to hold her still long enough so he can kill her.
it sounds cold, even to him, but those are the facts, and he doesn't want to delay this long enough for terry to have to see him kill his friend. with his free hand, he reaches for the gun holstered at his waist. it's his beretta, but it's not just a gun anymore; thanks to madison jeffries, it can pack a punch that could make even some of the tougher imports stop for a second.
but right now, all he's aiming at is a little girl. all he needs is an ordinary bullet, and he levels it at her head, fingers twitching against her wrist. he should pull the trigger already, and do what he came here for. what he all but promised to do.
he hesitates, instead, because at the end of the day, no matter the urgency, he's never going to be the kind of guy who thinks it's easy to kill a little girl. ]
Hey, Quantum. [ his voice is quiet, a little strained from the effort, though the hand that holds the gun is steady enough. ]
If I ever meet your dad -- either of 'em -- I'm gonna kick his fucking ass.
no subject
her eyes focus. she sees the gun aimed at her face, feels bradbury's hand around her wrist. she stares at it, defiant and fearless. she tips her head up a little. proud. because jenny quantum doesn't beg for her life. jenny quantum is not afraid to die.
jenny quantum still has one ace up her sleeve. ]
Fuck you, Rick. You don't get to talk about my dads. You don't get to talk to me about anything that fucking matters when you're about to murder me after you fucking-- lectured me about not smoking and talked to me like you ever gave a shit about me and-- fuck you. [ quietly, with something stubborn in her face, eyes narrowed: ] Door.
[ suddenly, a golden portal of light opens up behind her. she still has one ally in all this-- the carrier. and as the door opens, she pulls backward, tugging at her arm with all the strength she has left in that small body and jerking her and bradbury towards the open portal. ]
no subject
door, jenny quantum says, and then there isn't time to think.
his eyes widen when the door blossoms open, every muscle in his body tensed, trying to resist the pull, but he's so tired and she's just heavy enough to throw off his center of gravity, and he tips forward. there's a muffled roar that leaves his head ringing, and he wonders for a moment what the fuck that is, before he feels the kick and jerk of recoil making the bones of his wrist ache.
he can't even remember when he pulled the trigger, or what the hell he was aiming for.
the single gunshot echoes out, loud and clear, and then they're through the door and they're gone. ]
no subject
not that it matters now. they have about two seconds before they're falling through the air and crashing into the harsh water of an ocean. who fucking knows which one. it's so far out that there's no land in visible sight. payback is a bitch.
still, she clutches at bradbury's clothes, at his shoulders, and it's not obvious whether she means to drag him down with her when she finally bleeds out or if it's something else. her voice shakes when she finally manages to work it up. ]
You fucking missed, asshole.
no subject
in comparison, it's almost terrifyingly easy to hold jennifer quantum afloat. he doesn't try to pull away from her hands trying to grasp at him -- instead, he takes the wrist he was holding so tightly and guides it up to his shoulder, helping her hold on.
his gun's getting in the way, so he shoves her haphazardly back into her holster, giving him a free hand to help keep them steady while the other wraps around her (terribly fragile) body. he knows, at a glance, that he isn't going to be making it back to shore; he doesn't even know where they fucking are. ]
Sorry. [ he says, simply. quiet, now, that the inevitable has sunk in. ] I'd shoot you again, but seawater isn't too good for guns.
[ not even special ones. he's tired, but stubbornly, he kicks at the water to keep them up, and the waves rock them back and forth. ]
no subject
she coughs up a little blood. jesus, it's hard to breathe with a hole in your chest. or maybe it's how fucking cold the water is. either way, her vision has started going spotty, and she's feeling a little numb.
jenny wants a cigarette. she wants her dad to yell at her for wanting a cigarette.
her voice comes out strained when she finally speaks again: ]
You fucking won, old man.
Are you happy?
no subject
[ the joke falls flat. he's held his share of dying men, and his medical skills aren't the most sophisticated, but he thinks she might be going into shock. there's only so much abuse the human body can take before it refuses to acknowledge pain entirely.
pain is the body's way of telling you to get shit fixed. once it's given up on you, you probably don't have a whole lot of time left. ]
First thing you learn about war is that nobody wins. It's just about which side has more people left standing. [ a pause, then obliquely: ]
You ever watch any Disney movies?
[ he could ask her to open a door for him. he doesn't. ]
no subject
What? Like normal kids? Fuck no.
[ her grip is slackening, but she doesn't notice. she doesn't notice much of anything. salt water-- something stings at the corner of her eyes. it's good, that they're out in the middle of the ocean. nobody else is going to see her like this.
it's so cold. and she's tired. she's been tired for weeks now, and maybe she'll just... ]
Hey, Dad?
[ the words come muttered, exhausted, hallucinatory maybe. ]
I really fucking miss you.
no subject
he isn't just supporting her weight in the water anymore, he's holding her, but hell, if she's starting to hallucinate, she probably can't even tell what he's doing. this always seems to be how bradbury ends up, holding people while they're broken and bleeding out, except this time he doesn't have anyone on their way to pick them up. he doesn't have any fucking backup. ]
But I'm pretty sure he misses you too.
[ he's not her dad, but he's someone's dad. though he doesn't say anything else, the steady, sure grip of his arm says enough.
he might have to kill her again, he thinks, and he will. as many times as he has to.
but he'll regret it every time. ]
no subject
her loosening grip on bradbury tightens just for a moment, her last bit of strength before there's too much blood gone, too much willpower lost, and her fingers slip free, her arm going boneless into the water.
if she had anything left to say to him, or to midnighter, or to anyone-- it's lost now.
for the first time in what seems like forever, jenny quantum relaxes. she thinks of being small and safe in a father's arms, chasing the sun, riding on broad shoulders. finally, something inside her opens its arms to the universe, and she lets go. ]
no subject
eventually, the weight pressed against his chest disappears, and he's left holding nothing, empty fingers flexing in the the water. her blood's long dispersed, swallowed up by the waves, and against the pristine blue water it's hard to believe anyone died here.
it's beautiful out here, he thinks, letting his weight shift, floating on his back and staring up at the sky. wherever she took them, the sun's already dipped below the horizon, and he can see the stars rise.
all he really wants to do right now is sleep, but there's one more thing left to do, one duty to fulfill. he fumbles for his communicator, not sure if it's even working, or if the water would have damaged it. with numb fingers, he presses the emergency call button and waits for the distant click on the other end. he doesn't hear anything, doesn't know if it picks up, but just in case, he finally speaks. ]
It's over.
[ he says the words clearly, but softly, then drops the hand holding the communicator against his chest, just letting himself breathe. maybe it's still recording, and maybe it's not; either way, he doesn't really care. he doesn't know if he did the right thing or not, but it's done, and he doesn't get any take-backs. not in this life.
god, he's so fucking tired. he shuts his eyes -- then smiles, suddenly, as a thought occurs to him. if he had the energy for it, it would even make him laugh.
even jenny quantum, it seems, gets to leave him behind.
he doesn't remember falling asleep, or slipping under the water. all he remembers -- or maybe it's just his imagination -- is someone calling his name. ]