Malice and Chains Pt. 1

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

When; Morning, April 23rd Power Switch Curse
Rating; R (Language and Violence)
Characters; Elle Driver venomouselle  and Budd shit_stings 
Summary; Miss Driver finds a strange box, the puzzle box, upon waking. Along comes Budd with a surprise. When two assassins walk on the beach, it's never a pretty thing. Part 1.
Log;

Elle stood perfectly still. She was dressed, didn't have shoes on just yet. Her feet clenched the carpet for balance as she stared at him. Face to face once again, she was banking on that within the next few days. But this, this little treat was not at all welcomed or expected.

The wind blew the curtains lightly and the morning sun was a mockery of cheer. Elle could hear herself breathing. Behind her, in sleep like the dead Luke was breathing too. "Oh shit."


He laughed at the curse, but not loud enough to wake up the sound sleeper. "Nice to see you, too, darlin'," He leaned on the nearest wall, not nearly as worried as she seemed to be, taking in what he could see of the apartment carefully. "Nice place you got," his eyes finally fell on who he assumed to be her man, and he laughed again, "Fuck's sake, Elle." With the hair and everything, well, he found it funny that Elle was apparently fucking with some guy of similar features. "That's self-indulgence if I ever saw it." He didn't care how he'd gotten here, because he was near-completely sure that he had the upper hand.

She clenched her teeth. Who could have been sadistic enough to do this? Here she had been more than careful, ensuring that Budd knew little to nothing about her and her current life in the City. All of that was dashed. Goodbye, security. Goodbye, safety. Hello, Budd.

"You know I'm more of a personality gal," she managed voice low in volume and tone. They had to get out of here. Vampire or not, Elle was not going to drag anyone into the fight until she knew what the surprise was.

"Mm," he grunted out a quick reply, but that was it. Budd let the room fall into a silence, just waiting until it seemed ripe enough. The window was open, so the ahead-of-time warning was lessoned pretty decently. He wasn't so much concerned with hurting her as he was with spooking her, at least for the moment. He kept his eyes on her singular one (this was on her bad side too and this was just too good), as a huge chain, a proportionate hook attached to its end, came flying through the window, end smashing into the opposite wall with some force. It passed just past her head, and Budd laughed gruffly at the whole, suddenly chaotic ordeal.

"Pretty fuckin' cool, huh?"


Elle Driver's heart rate increased at the crash. Just turning toward the sound, she caught sight of one link after another. The force of the suspended metal propelling through the airshifted her hair. Her mouth hung agape in shock, and admittedly only to herself, fear. She could try and be reasonable, ask that this not happen here. A fat lot of good asking did at their last meeting, trying twice would not be a good idea. Elle would have to run toward him to lead him out. Slowly shifting her weight as the heel and ball of her left foot, "nice."


"Ain't it?" He was grinning like a maniac, leaning on her wall with a relaxed ajustment of his hat. "Near took my own arm off first thing," still, he laughed, "Got no idea what the fuck I'm doing here, but... Hey, maybe it's one of them 'fate' things." Conversational as he was being, he was waiting.


Fate. Christ if that wasn't a laugh. Elle looked slowly from the chain to Budd. He could control them? Just another shitty cursed day.

She sprinted in an arc making her way past him. It was hard not to make it look like a retreat. Her pride wouldn't let her call the move that. She moved so fast that heat gathered under the pads of her feet, reminding her she was barefoot. That couldn't be helped. "Let's get some fresh air." Not turning her back to him for a second, she moved toward the door.

"Whatever suits you," he could've laughed again for her sudden sense of housing preservation. He was actually a bit impressed, in some odd way, that her boy had managed to stay sleeping, and he was sure to get a good look at the guy before he followed after Elle, face showing his overall delight splendedly, "Where we goin', Elle? The O.K. Corral?"

Anger welled as she saw Budd obviously out to commit details to memory. "Want to go see some pretty trees?" The forest would be the only place that Elle could think of to offer up some sort of place for her to lose him.

Weapons check was not good. This early in the morning she had a few knives and, yes, a handgun for emergencies. Ah, the power of the element of surprise.

"Nah," after all, he had a good deal of the power and leverage in this situation, "Ain't a woodsy sort, me." The sound of the chain slinking away from the window in the bedroom could be heard. "How about that beach, hm? More romantic, for sure," he laughed lightly, again. It was the closest he could get to his most preferred environment, the shore.


Romantic. That earned him a hard glare. "If it's romance you want, you're shit out of luck, baby." The chain rattling was going to get on her nerves fast, she could tell already.

"You sure you don't want a garden?" There was nothing to duck behind at the beach.


"Oh, well. Fuck romance," he had to smile at her persistance, though, "Nice try, darlin'. It's the beach, or we tear the shit out of this nice set-up you've got here."


"We'll go to the beach then," Elle sighed. As much as she didn't like it, he had the upperhand. The image of the place she'd come to call home being busted apart struck her deeply.


"Right," he barked with a grin, pushing his hat back from his eyes. "Get to steppin', then." There was no way she was walking behind him, because, the last he knew, she was toting around at least one knife.

"You just want to look at my ass," Elle bristled and continued walking. He wouldn't be so picky if he was looking to knock her senseless right in the hallway. So walk she did.


"Maybe," he shrugged, thumbs slipping into his belt loops. They must've looked a bit off, walking through the City as wary as they were. He'd found the teleporters to the beach on the same day he'd looked into the fountain, and was impressed with them, to say the least. A ten-minute walk earned you what a fourty-five-minute, supposedly life-threatening trek would get you, otherwise.

He grinned as they stepped out onto the sand, eyes squinting away the sunlight, "Hell, darlin'. This even gonna' be a fight?"


The sand was warm beneath her toes, not yet midday so the temperature was tolerable. Elle frowned, she had not yet been to the beach. Nothing but sand and surf, just as she had worried it would be.

"I guess so. I didn't think you bothered me for a little walk and chat about books and movies." Stretching her arms behind her, fingers interlaced helped the knives loosen from place ready when she needed them. "Unless there's something else on the menu."


"Something else?" He questioned lightly, "Like what?"

There was nothing else, though, save for the mere appearance of coversation. Another of his temporary chains sped from nearly-nowhere, sharp hook catching at her ankle and pulling back, merely to topple her, and Budd found it hysterical.


Elle yelped and fell forward. She reacted fast enough to keep from burying her face in the sand. A small amount of blood ran down her foot. "Very funny, asshole."

She flexed her arm again, pulling a small throwing knife from her sleeve and using it to cut upward, just above the tops of his cowboy boots. Anticipating another lash out, Elle rolled.


"Fuck," she'd sliced through his jeans and into his skin. It was nothing to fret over, though, a hearty scrape below his knee. Sure enough, he launched another of his chains at her and missed as she rolled away. "Nice trick, darlin'," he spoke through clenched teeth, and one of the chains came at her from the perpandicular as if reaching for her wrist.


Unfortunately for Elle, the chains were not gentle. The hook caught just around her wrist, the chain entwining about her upper arm, pinching flesh. "Nice trick yourself."

Budd was grinning right at her. She had to do something! Frustration was apparent in her furrowed brow.


"Thanks," needless to say, he took the absolutely sarcastic and hateful comment with a degree of equally-sarcastic grace.

He stepped around her keeping a safe distance from any reach she may have with knives,.and kicked at the sand, aiming to get her vision blurred, "Watch this... or don't. One or the other." He laughed again, stepping back from her. With a jingle that seemed almost merry to him, the chain around her arm tugged fiercely, dragging her towards rolling waters.


The grains of sand stung her skin as they hit. Her eye burned. Elle rubbed with her free arm to try and clear her vision. In the next moment she was pulled from her feet while her arm audibly crunched. "Fuck! Stop toying with me!" Risking further injury, she attempted to lunge at him with a knife in her other hand. Not twice! He was not going to get the best of her twice! Power or no power, surely determination had some sort of sway.


She knicked him again, and he cursed lightly, "Rich, askin' me to stop toying with you, Elle." His lips pressed together, the tugging stopped, but another chain came to wrap 'round her abdomen, "Considering our talkin', ain't that a bit hypocritical?"


They both stood ankle deep in water. The rolling waves edged farther and farther up the sand. Elle shivered, both from the coil of chains holding her in a painful embrace and from the waters.

"I don't know what you are talking about. You know my intentions." It felt good to get him again, but these little cuts were not going to get anywhere.


"Right now, I suspect they ain't the same as they used to be," if it made her feel better, the salt from the water wasn't doing too well for the cuts she'd inflicted, "C'mon, Elle. If you can sit around all day feedin' yourself memories, then it can't hurt me too bad."

"What's more, you bitched-up bimbo, is you killed me, and if you think a couple of cracks is gonna' make up for that, then you're sorely mistaken." He smirked; the chains tightened. "You wanted a rise outta' me, Elle? Huh? Picking fights... I'm fuckin' risen."


This was a shade of the Budd she knew. Fine time for him to show up. Elle took each breath slowly, focusing on his face. The chain links pinched and clasped on clothing and bits of skin. She was going to bruise for sure. "Took you long enough." It was her turn to kick up sand, with salty, cold water right into the face.

She allowed herself a quiet laugh and threw the knife at chest level best she could.



"Bullfuckin'," he turned just enough so that he wasn't stabbed, but he was shallow-slashed from the edge of his chest to his upper arm. Adding the fact that he'd been throughly splashed with salt-water, that shit burned a bit fiercely. He cursed, and stumbled; a visual trick, part of the Zui Quan that he'd half-assed studied, and his limply-swinging arm solidified in time to ram his forearm into the wrap-around of chains that held her abdomen, "I just bought this shirt, you knife-mad skank."


It was her turn to have difficulty with footing. The force of the strike to the chains around her knocked the wind out of her. The knife was now lost in the knee deep water. She didn't have that many left.

"Makes you," she coughed, panting now, "look like you're a lumberjack. Not a cowboy. Or was that what you're going for."


"S'comfy," he muttered, stepping back from her again. With another barked sort of laugh, chains shot from the water, weaving in an attempt to grab at her wrists, to pull her down into the water, "Really, though, sweetheart, I don't figure you're in much of a position to insult my dressin'."


She didn't have much else to try. Two knives in her sleeves left. Elle jumped at him, dodging from the hooked chains best she could, left wrist got caught but the other successfully embedded a knife in his upper chest. It was not long enough to pierce organs...yet. The dragging pull of the chain at her wrist caused her to tear just enough.

Elle was not going to drop her weapon so easily this time "I didn't think this would be how you'd want it, honey. I know you like a fight as much as I do, but these chains just aren't you."

He screamed in a short burst, but stood firm enough. He'd been through worse; he'd fucking died, 'last few agonizing moments' and everything. His jaw clentched, and he let out something in between a laugh and a grimace, "Thought I'd try something new. They look mighty fine on you, I'll say."

That being said, he moved suddenly, spasmatically, arms flailing up in an attempt to throw her, and her knife, off of him. He took a risk with his balance and picked up his foot, hooking his knee in an attempt to hit her own. He needed her to either be forced back or down, off.


"Glad you think so. I don't think I like em. The kinky shit belongs elsewhere." She smiled at his pain, at the red spreading over the shirt.

The flailing was unexpected. Elle braced herself best she could, even twisted the knife. The strike at the knee softened her stance. Grunting, she used the grip on the handle in Budd's body to force weight to try and stand straighter. The water was rising higher, or they were wandering farther out. Either way, her pants were clinging to her legs. The force of a new wave caused her fingers to slip.


"Fuck," he shouted again, eyes clamping shut automatically as the knife twisted and bore in. He was tearing easily now, breathing hard through flared nostrils with his jaw tight. "I'll let your blond beau know that you're not interested in that sort of thing." He was not going to let this happen while he had the advantage.

He noticed the slip of her fingers, and immediately shoved again, elbow in her belly. Violent, even with himself, he yanked the knife from his chest, "Ow." Mentally summoning up another chain, the hook of which merely caught onto the chain that clutched her, he attempted to drag her further away from him. "Fuck, Elle," he was taking a brief moment to inspect the wound in his chest.


The harsh hit to her stomach had Elle fall lax just enough to be pulled away from Budd. The chains were not giving at all, they felt tighter than before. "Time and a place, Budd," she said, watching his expression. While he was making sure he wasn't bleeding to death, she backed up inch by inch hoping to get to the shore.

"I missed your heart. Oopsy." Knife count was down to one. Was he really out to kill her?


He snorted, looking back up to her and her attempt to retreat. He'd be fine (so far, at least). "Already hit it once, damaged it, stopped it," he was able to grin wryly, "And, ooh, wouldn't Bill be pissed if he knew you were the one who finished me."

He kept the knife, wiping it idly on his jeans as he began a casual walk back towards her, onto more solid ground and out of the stinging water, "What's more, you stupid, selfish whore, if you hadn't've killed me, we'd've stopped Bea, and we'd all be alive, now wouldn't we?" After all, getting and emotional fit out of Elle was just as fun as cracking her bones.


She narrowed her icy blue eye, "thought we weren't going to talk about stuff like that, shithead." It was all too fresh. Budd knew it too.

Elle took a careful step backward. "If you wanna talk about damage to the heart we could call it even save for the last." Salt sting at her ankles from the first drag was not feeling nice with the mix of sand. "I had thoughts of killing you before Sleeping Beauty woke up, Bill had known."

He was baiting her. Elle could smell it. The question was why. Weren't the chains enough? Wasn't invading her privacy enough? Her eye was on the knife as she side stepped. "You'd have been alive if you hadn't killed her, Budd. Your lil' news just made me actualize the desire. Silly me for having faith in you being capable of killing her."


"I only did what you said." Fuck, his boots were halfway to trashed, after this. "'Make sure she suffers to her last breath,'" but she must've already known that she was going to kill him, if she'd been plotting it... "Why the fuck," he wasn't feeling well, but at least he was out of the water, now, "Why the fuck would you have killed me, before?" Actually, the fact that she's conspired against him early-on and Bill had known and accepted it... Well, fuck. "Didn't do a damn thing to you."

Three chains flew at her, now, all from opposing sides, and caught onto anything that they could grab. He was mad, he was taking in his brothers' death, Elle already had another new man, before she'd even been sure that Bill was dead, and he'd magically gained the ability to rip things to tiny shreds. Lord help him if he'd feel bad for it in the morning, but, now...? Fuck it. He'd at least make her feel it a little bit.


"I would have killed you before, for just becoming somebody no one knew," came her reply in a half whimper. Her arms were held far apart and outstretched. It felt like he was trying to tear her into two slowly. "Alcoholic titty bar bouncer," she was not going to cry out in pain, "really thought that the bitch dumb enough to take a shine to him would up and leave. Consequences you n-never thought of: I hated that you left, fucker. It hurt. You didn't even tr-try."

Her voice dropped. "Bea dying would-would have been a cherry on top to it all. You know, Bill being a daddy to us ugh all..." Standing was hard, the chain around her leg was cutting off circulation bit by bit, "he said that you deserved a chance. Couldn't tell him I'd actually do it. Thought I was just blowing steam." The opposite leg in response softened at the knee in a less rigid stance.

Maybe it was her own imagination but Budd wasn't looking very good either. That former new shirt of his was getting awfully red.


"Fuckin' hate maraschino," he breathed, still with a smile, however pained it might have looked. He shouldn't have brought it up. His throat felt tight, and it was probably for all of the wrong reasons. "Bill's got fuckin' lousy judgement, especially when it comes to women. Stupid cunts," insult was so much easier than injury.

The chains on her arms tugged, "Leavin' weren't easy like that," he smirked, "And I couldn't have done anything if I tried." He nodded firmly, mouth clentched again. If her shoulder popped out, he wanted to hear it, if anything snapped...


"Seeing as...we caused fall of man from grace an' all, makes sens--!" Elle's eye widen and tears of pain welled in her vision. On either side, the confiding metal pulled more in a lurch. "B-Budd!"

Shut up, shut up! Don't give him the luxury! Easier said. Still the chains pulled. In a burst, she sobbed as a slow crackle came before a shooting pain from her shoulder to wrist. The appendage hung limp in the chains.


He smirked at his name, grinned sickly at the breaking. The chain at her leg and broken arm released, while the third tugged for a moment longer. He let gravity take her, if it would, "Aw, I'm sorry. I hurt you, babydoll?" Still holding onto the knife that she'd stuck in him, he bound her ankles just enough to keep her from wriggling too much, "You know what 'Papa Vihaio' used to do to rippin', no-good, stupid-assed bitches like you?"


Elle panted heavily, not trusting her own voice. Pain trampled repeatedly like ants up and down her arm. Her hair clung to her face thanks to the wet of tears and salt water. At release, she stood on unsteady legs. The chains clenched at her ankles and she couldn't help falling to her knees.

Vihaio the pimp. Bill's father figure of many. Likely Budd's father figure. She had only been down that way once. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Still Elle kept quiet.


Fine. If she didn't want to answer, he supposed that she didn't have to. She likely knew who Vihaio was, though, and that was probably enough. His face turn somber as he approached, and he pushed roughly on her damage-side shoulder before he grabbed her roughly, doing a once-over for weapons, and her last knife and pistol were tossed aside.

"Now, you listen to me..." He gripped the collar of her shirt, turning the knife's edge to just barely rest on her lips. "Someday, we'll figure this shit out. For now, you don't get to whine about what a sorry, evil bastard I am because I left something that you were toppling, anyhow. You're a sorry, needy bitch, and you ran around on me with my brother, and you ran around on my brother with the fucker in your bed, 'cause you weren't sure he was dead 'til just yesterday. Well, sweetheart, Bill's dead, I'm dead, and you're just ripe for the blamin', so I'mma treat you right." His voice lightened, but his it was still quite serious, low and near-whispered, "Slice your fuckin' face open, and we'll see who'll fuck you on someone else's time, again."

There was a long pause, in which his facial expression shifted at least twice, "Fuck if you ain't the prettiest thing, though." He was talking as if she couldn't understand, demeaning. He smiled stiffly, and the knife moved. He knicked her lower lip just slightly, kissed her soundly, and threw her down.