tampered | (no subject)

When; Monday, Oct. 3 -- evening
Rating; R [language, potential innuendo/violence]
Characters; Frederick Abberline

bloodyuseless, Scarab

noh_dancer, Baby

fireflybaby
Summary; Scarab comes to rescue Abberline from the psychotic one.
Log;

The blonde sprawled out over the bed with one leg bent upward, sighing in blatant distaste as she hiked her shirt up over her ribs. Doing so was enough to expose the wounds at her side, which were healing well enough. They were still quite painful, however, and she made a point of taking care of them accordingly--doing her best to assure that she would minimize the scarring as much as she possibly could. The fact that she was doing everything in her power to see to it that they were properly cared for, however, didn't mean that she wouldn't be taking time out of her oh-so-busy schedule to sulk.

The most recent victims of these ravings was presently secured to the bed next to her. Abberline, who had been her 'prisoner' for a few days now, was lucky enough to be her primary shoulder to cry on, so to speak. She turned onto her side, rather shamelessly moving toward him, and tilted her head with a fair pout. "Lookit what that bitch did. What the fuck am I gonna do if this scars, huh~?" a lengthy sigh, and she dropped her head to rest on his chest, trailing the blade of her knife idly over his abdomen. "People should learn to stay outta the fuckin' way, don't you think? You come to learn fast enough that it's not so bad if you do that, right?"

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Over the past few days, Frederick had gotten very used to Baby's ravings, and her abuse. The cutting and the beating had more or less stopped, though, since he'd started talking to her, and cooking her breakfast. The constant state of undress was uncomfortable, but at least she'd been letting him keep his pants lately. With his one free hand he lifted the cigarette to his lips, inhaling. He wished idly that he'd not be handcuffed to the bedframe all night, his digits were suffering from poor circulation. The smoking probably didn't help, but, oh well.

"Darling, I'm sure if you mend it properly it won't even show," he said comfortingly. "Not that it would take away at all from your appearence. And no, education should never be frowned on."

Silence rained in the dim hallway, even as a slight figure knelt pressed to the older apartement door.

Listening intently to the tiny metallic scratching of the lock pics, Scarab held even her breath in order to differentiate between sounds from within the residence, and those without.

With a miniscule 'tick', the tumbler gave, and the lock moved back.
A grim smile graced her mouth beneath the stoic Noh mask.

Standing, she stowed her tools, and drew a .25 for her right hand. It was awkward holding it with only three fingers, but the smaller stock, and grip helped make up for any weight distribution problems.

Pushing the door open only enough to slip through, she went immeadiately to a crouch.

It was dim inside....and full of a staggering amount of junk for what looked like a small one bedroom on first inspection.
Narrowing red-lensed eyes, Scarab crept down the hallway, weaving between eerie mounted animal heads toward the sliver of light that emitted from a cracked door.

Black hair, and the black of her body suit helped to cloak her movements, especially with so little clearence between door and doorjam.

Peering inside she saw the owner of the high pitched little-girl voice she had first heard outside the apartement door...and next to her, was Frederick.
A giddy feeling of relief gripped her stomach, but she pushed it away in favor of the icy rage that had been slowly chilling her since she had first read Frederick's broken reply.

Surprise on her side, Scarab stood fully, and pushed the door open, the glock preceeding her, pointed levelly at Baby Firefly.

" Knock, Knock, bitch."

Her reflexes weren't at their best at present. It was partially a result of too much Jack Daniel's hours prior, partially simply due to the fact that she considered this relaxation. Who the Hell was expecting anyone to come bursting into the place, anyhow? She wasn't used to watching over it herself; usually Otis or Tiny were there to take care of that bit in advance. Nonetheless, when Scarab made her dramatic entrance the reaction was hardly extreme. In fact, Baby didn't move at all save for the slightest shift in her position--one that guided her closer to Frederick--so that she could see the intruder.

She frowned and tugged down her shirt, though what little fabric was dragged upward in the first place did little to hide the usual excess of exposed skin. The automatic weaponry nearest her would be the few pistols stowed away in the nightstand nearby, but she knew that reaching them would be a stretch. Her brows furrowed in the few seconds of thought and her fingers clenched against the blade of her knife, which remained stationary just above Abberline's navel.

"Where the fuck do people like you get off busting in here without knocking, huh? And to go so far as calling me a bitch when you're the guest in my house, bitch."

Her tone was cold, lacking the usual (even sarcastic) humour that was generally ever-present. Her free arm, which had wound around Frederick's shoulders in the few seconds after she'd tugged down her shirt, tightened about him instinctively--a manner that was almost possessive.

"Oh, hello," Frederick said midly, eyes only widening marginally as Scarab appeared. Like Baby, he'd been nursing constant diet of liquor for the past few days, and he probably wouldn't have been able to find logic if it was sitting on his face.

"Now.. ladies.. please.." he looked down at the knife pressed against him, free hand flailing a bit, creating a swirling of smoke in the air. "All this hostility is going to get very complicated."

Scarab's gun never wavered in it's solid teacup grip despite the fierce ache in her damaged left shoulder.

The mask betrayed not even so much as a facial tic, but her voice was filled with a dangerous sense of frozen calm.

" Drop the blade, and get onto the floor. Face down. Hands where I can see them." she said simply, choosing to ignore Frederick's placating manner.

That icy rage was lending her a strength that overrode the throbbing pain in the gunshot wound to her shoulder....but if the blond woman called her bet she would be bleeding soon, and she doubted very much she would be able to keep a calm handle on things if this psychotic gaijin put a mark on Frederick.

She twirled the blade idly in place, though didn't quite let it cut him. Not yet, at least. "And what the fuck are you gonna do, bitch? You do shit and I'll drive him right through."

Meanwhile, the other hand went about discreetly working the tiny key into the cuff holding Frederick in place. Whether he would opt to aid her in this situation or not, he would be of more use to her free--were he to attempt to aid Scarab, Baby would simply put him to use as a human shield.

She did little to comply to the other's orders, gazing to her directly through an icy glare of her own.