[ It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue. ]

[superxgrlfriend.livejournal.com]

WHO: jamie_prime and mouth_breathing; superxgrlfriend, doubleoohbaby, hhhhfuckedagain, wadewilson and deadredbird; apocalypsewench and cry_andletloose
WHERE: A warehouse outside the city.
WHEN: Late Saturday/early Sunday
SUMMARY: Emplate nabbed Jamie for noms and now there are Emplate!dupes waiting for Monet to walk into his trap. He probably wasn't expecting her to bring a few people who don't mind shooting him in the face.
WARNINGS: Violence and character death.
FORMAT: I'm going with quick para for now, but whatever you guys want, really. Tag yourselves in when you're available!



[ Monet distracts herself with clothing, checking and rechecking her gloves, stretching out new leather, scuffing her heels against the pavement. It's dark at the rendezvous point and she's alone for the moment, drowning in her thoughts, so concentrating on the physical material is helping to keep her from asking herself, over and over, as she's asked herself every day for last seven years, why. Why her, why her family, why ever, why now? Why couldn't her brother have been born with the X-gene that allowed him to propel through the air like a rocket or turn into a giant rock? Would it even have made a difference? Would anything? Would he have still turned out this way, so angry, bitter, evil?

Monet knows so much but this she'll never know. What if, what if, what if. A dangerous game to play on a good day. This is not a good day.

She crosses her arms over her chest and waits for her team, and picks the lint from her coat because it's easier than wondering if her father would ever forgive her, or why she needs his forgiveness at all. ]

Comments

[mouth-breathing.livejournal.com]

His windpipe threatens to buckle beneath the pressure of her grip, all of his breath coming out in one rushed exhalation. She's strong -- always has been, always will, so strong, like he never could have been, his little sister, Monet -- enough to lift him off his feet, and he's so, so, so tired. Bone tired. Aching. Beaten. Sore. He coughs, and black blood flecks his lips.

He can barely speak.

"You threw the first stone."

[superxgrlfriend.livejournal.com]

"I was a child," she bit back, tightening her grip. Her hands were shaking when the memories come, unbidden: she was selfish and cruel, flinging words like weapons just to see a flicker of pain. Weren't we all terrible at fourteen? "You were still my brother," she continued, bringing her knee up to meet his abdomen, "I loved you."

She thought of Sam then, and Paige, and her broken heart escaped her chest, shattering on the floor at the thought of the family they could have been.

"I won't allow you to take anything else from me."

[mouth-breathing.livejournal.com]

From the darkness, another Dupe walks into the circle of hazy fluorescent light surrounding them, its "face" one of incredulity and doubt. It doesn't move to help Marius or hinder Monet, but its eyes are steel, glaring points into his sister's back.

"You were adult enough to know the consequences." it growls, its modulated voice buzzing with contempt. "Adult enough to throw away a perfectly sane offer and go running when the first chance presented itself."