Log; Complete

[glock30.livejournal.com]

When; March 1st [Laaaate Evening]
Rating; R [Language, Violence, much much BADNESS, oh, and SMACK TALK AND MOVES]
Characters; Faye Valentine [glock30] & Joshua Christopher [apostleofhope]
Summary; After this. Faye's stubborn, hypocritical, and very very abused. ...Joshua also thinks her gun is spiffy.
Log;

Faye; In retrospect, it was probably a terrible idea. It was late, she was tired, and her stomach had settled strangely after agreeing to the whole ordeal. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Faye had a small voice telling her that this was stupid, stubborn, foolish. Right on top of it, however, her pride sat square and fat, and that stubbornness shut up her better judgment with little consequence or protest. This had been a long time coming, even if every step she took seemed like it was going further and further in the wrong direction. This was stupid. This was moronic. This was, above all else, hypocritical.

But Faye didn’t care anymore. Joshua had strung her life – her past – around in front of her like it was some stupid game, and although she’d protested to Spike in her not-so-recent-anymore history about the past and being tied to the past, this was different. This was a threat, and Faye was sick of rolling over and letting them pass her by. So maybe it was hypocritical, maybe it was stupid. None of it mattered. What she wanted right then was to shoot something, and since Joshua seemed to have so much to say about her life and her ‘singing,’ of all things, and Gren, well… Joshua’s kneecap would make perfect target practice.

She hadn’t even bothered naming which warehouse – mainly because she wasn’t as familiar with them as she was the other buildings in the City – but if he was serious, then they’d meet up, no problem. In the meantime, she muscled open one of the doors closer to an exit to the Overground, spitting out her cigarette and stubbing it with the heel of her boot. Once inside, she shouldered the MP5, trying to locate other ways out.

After all, one of Faye Valentine’s most prized philosophies was that a woman should always have a means of escape from every and any situation.

Joshua; Joshua didn't care for the warehouses--any of them. There was a distant memory, one of a metal helmet and the raw scraping of steel against cement, and there was the smell of rust and the prick of barbs. It left him heavy-lidded and blank, as if trying to erase the memory. It was not a memory. Not his. JACKAL.

He didn't mind the warehouse Saya stayed at too much, but this was not that warehouse. The warehouse Faye Valentine had picked had no significance, no special layout. It was just another building in another neighborhood that was crawling with filth. Joshua knew if Fiore were here, she would make him take a bath after this.

After watching her enter the building, Joshua landed softly on the roof, uttering less sound than a stray rat might as his wings disappeared. These things were unstable and broken, so it was easy to find a patch in the roof to drop through. But still, even once he was inside, he was silent, creeping along the catwalk as he watched her down below. She hadn't even dressed up. What a cheap date.

Finally bored with watching her do nothing, Joshua shut his eyes and propped his arms on the banister, breaking the thick silence with a soft, "One... Two..."

Faye; After a moment or two of pacing, Faye finally stopped and stood still, realizing that if she made too much noise - and it was a shame that she was naturally rather loud - she would never hear him come in, never hear him say anything. In the year and a half that she'd been away from the ship, from bounty hunting, her skills had slackened, but time spent here would never erase that instinctual knowledge.

Keeping quiet for a moment had its immediate advantages, too. For one, she could catch her breath and reassure herself again: she was fine, this was fine, above all else, she wasn't afraid. Above all else, she was pissed off. Really pissed off.

She heard him in the new stillness, too, not loud or forceful or even that threatening. An almost-gentle countdown, and Faye quickly remember the game they were supposed to be playing. Hide and Seek, wasn't it? Faye was twenty-four-years-old. She was sick of playing games.

Instead of unloading the MP5 or making a beeline for any of the windows or doors, Faye raised the gun to where she thought he was, not firing, still somewhat unwilling to make a move until she remembered that this was her call. A little pressure on the trigger was all it took, and the loud pops in the enclosed space sank all the way down to her stomach and did away with the apprehension.

Joshua; He had been shot at a lot in his life, and of course bullets didn't stand a chance of hitting him, but he'd never really been fired at with a gun that fast. It caught him off guard, the sound, and he almost didn't move in time. He could feel something hot graze the bottom of his shoe before he darted off over the catwalk, of course keeping his eyes closed. He had promised, hadn't he?

No matter how fast the bullets were, Faye's own speed couldn't match his closely enough if she tried, especially in such a dim light. But he was taking it easy on her. If he tried, the human eye couldn't even follow him. They'd blink and he was gone. At the very least, he was letting her catch his trail if she so desired.

But he still stayed up high, bounding off walls and using light fixtures and rafters to keep balance. This was actually more difficult with his eyes closed, and he was having to be very careful. It was probably the most 'even' the fight was ever going to get. ...If you could even call this a fight.

"Eight! Nine! Ten!"

Faye; It was hard to follow him, the swinging lights throwing distortions across the walls and floor. Her own shadow stood long and stretched one moment and then narrowed and small the next, giving her a warped sense of placement. Faye was trying to follow him, but her skill at tracking had always been in planning. She had never been naturally agile or quick, especially when she was--

No, no, concentrate on the task at hand. She wanted a kneecap. She wanted to follow up on what she had said. Her pride wouldn't allow for anything else.

Faye swung herself around and threw her arm up over her head, trying to block out the, admittedly, poor lighting in order to get a better shot. She thought about hiding to get a better shot, but his counting was maddening enough without the sense that they were actually playing and when Faye thought that she had another opportunity to take a shot, she did, depressing the trigger until she was out of ammo.

Her finger vibrated a little as the gun cooled, and she hoped he'd take the momentary lull as a sign to come down and get up close and personal. Of course she had her Glock, under her sweater, holstered against her spine. If he came close enough, she could get a shot.

She was banking on that.

Joshua; If not for his speed, Joshua would have been a mutilated mess on the ground by now. He really liked that gun she had used. He'd have to have a look at that later on. For now it was time to disappear, slinking back in the darkness of one of the rafters as he continued to count. After such a racket, the silence almost seemed deafening. There was a lighttick, and it made his breath catch.

"Twenty. Twenty one. Twenty two." And if he sounded amused, it was because he was. "Twenty three. Twenty four!" He backtracked in his head, remembering where he stepped so that he could recall where the entrance to the catwalk was, and he leapt down to land with a clang. "Twenty five." He was pretty sure the soul of his shoe was damaged. One of her stupid bullets had done that. It felt funny to walk now. "Twenty six."

Was she out of bullets completely? That was ridiculous... She knew she was only a human, so if she was going to get into a fight with him she couldn't be that unprepared, could she? If so, she was stupid. "Twenty seven." Finally, he dropped down to a pile of crates, listening carefully for the sounds of her breaths, of her steps, of her noise. It hurt hurt hurt hurt, but it was useful.

"...Twenty eight." He was waiting.

Faye; By the time he hit the ground, Faye was seriously irritated, both at herself for not managing to hit him and, obviously, with Joshua. His counting was creepy, plain and simple, and she had had enough of creepy nuances from the opposite gender to last her more than two lifetimes. His voice cut through the silence, Faye busy concentrating, trying to listen, too, trying to pinpoint where he was, what he was doing, how from her she was, where she was.

She pinched her mouth shut, trying to keep her breathing even and low, not hiding but not making any move to come forward, waiting for an opportunity to get in a good shot. If she hurt him, she could get the fuck out of there. That was her agenda, that was her plan.

"Twenty-eight," she heard him say - so close to thirty, and then what? - poking her head around from the stack of crates she'd slid behind, trying, again, to locate him in the poor lighting, her mind pounding harder than her heart even as she calmed herself down.

Finally, she thought that she had a shot, thought that she'd caught him. "Shoot them before they shoot you," she reminded herself, under her breath, barely a whisper, before she squared herself and arched over her crate, before she finished off what was left in the MP5.

Faye always had been better with her Glock anyway.

Joshua; "Twenty--" Oh. She did still have more bullets. These were different, though... This wasn't a machine gun. Just a normal automatic? Now she was just grasping at straws. It was kind of pitiful... He almost felt bad for her. Or he would if she hadn't interrupted him. "Twenty nine." With his eyes closed, that had nearly grazed his cheek. The air had felt hot, like his skin had been slightly burned. But by the time another one could be fired, he was moving again, pulling his hands from his coat pockets. "Thirty!"

It was with surprising precision that he landed just behind her in a crouch, eyes only opening as he stood up to grab her wrist. It was so...delicate. And soft. It wasn't fitting for a woman with such a dirty mouth. "Found you~!" he laughed out before gripping her shoulder and wrenching her right arm back behind her, clearly not satisfied until he heard the telltale pop.

Faye; As cliche as it sounded, it really happened too fast for Faye to react properly. Her first instinct was to bite down and kick back - she had fair hand-to-hand skills and if Joshua wanted to test her, she was willing - but she only got so far as grinding her teeth, unable to kick back as she felt that telltale pop as well.

Faye wanted to refuse him the satisfaction of hearing her react in anyway, but she sucked in a sharp hiss of air and let out a sharp cry involuntarily as the tension in her arm pulled too far, the gun in her dominant hand falling when her grip slackened with the pop in her arm. The sound it made against the ground was worse than all the bullets, worse than his counting, worse than the snap her arm made when it popped.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pain was blinding, but she managed to find his foot with her boot, driving her heel down as hard as she could, trying to put distance between them in any way, trying to ignore the pain, pretend it was distant, but it was practically impossible. She wasn't superhuman. She was just Faye fucking Valentine, and her best bet was to get away from him and get her gun.

Joshua; She didn't need to scream. Joshua wasn't particularly a sadist... He didn't get any sick high out of hearing people cry out in pain, or feeling their bones break. He didn't think of torture as some kind of lost art form, and he certainly didn't care of they died quickly or slowly. All Joshua cared about was power. He cared about how much power he had, and he cared about how much power everyone else had.

This woman had none. Of course, he had known that coming into this... He hadn't expected any real challenge. This had just been something to pass the time after he'd gotten bored with watching Rosette sleep. Joshua didn't sleep much anymore, really. The nightmares hurt too much.

The sudden pain in his foot was sharp, and immediately made him let her go so that he could step back. "Ow!" Yes, he was surprised, and he made no attempt to hide it. Joshua wasn't used to fighting women in heels. He was used to fighting demons bigger than small houses. Those didn't attempt to step on your toes, really.

Concerned for the state of his foot, Joshua hopped a bit before leaning over to poke at it. At least nothing was broken... "That's not how the game's supposed to go," he muttered under his breath.

Faye; The game? The game?

"Fuck you, Joshua," she said, trying to sound like a hard-ass, like she wasn't afraid and she wasn't hurting, but her voice was teetering even to her own ears.

Faye swallowed hard, wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and strangle him and run away all at the same time. He'd broken her arm so easily and it hurt like hell. If she had ever broken her arm ever before, she couldn't remember it. The time that Nathaniel had broken her hand was nothing in comparison. This pain was throbbing and unreal, white hot and burning but deep down and seeping, too, and her head swam with the weight of it as she finally pulled away from him, trying to keep her vision straight, trying to find - where was her gun?

Oh. She kicked it, bent to pick it up, and held it unsteadily in her left hand, trying to hide the unease - shaking - as she leveled it and fired almost immediately, automatically. She didn't even bother to aim for anything specifically, trusting herself, at this close range, to make the shot, to get him away from her, it wasn't hard, it wasn't hard. Had she hit him?

God, I better have hit something.

Joshua; Well she hit something all right, if a large hook hanging from a pulley counted as something. He was already gone, leaning over the spot where she had dumped the MP5. Clearly he was not slowing down his speed anymore for her benefit. Picking it up, he made an appreciative sound as he turned it over to inspect.

"Wow! Is this another gun from the future? It's so fast." He was grinning like a kid in a candy shop, seemingly oblivious to poor Faye in her injured and very angry gun-toting state. He was also reaching back behind him to tug a pistol of his own from it's holster, normally hidden by his long coat. It could have been a normal semi-automatic, if not for the rather bizarre looking magazine attached to it. Religious symbols abound. "I wonder if they could make these kind of bullets for this kind of gun... That would be so spiffy!"

With a laugh, he waved his gun in her direction, an exaggerated motion to emphasize his excitement, but who knew what that trigger could be pulled. "Where did you get it?"

Faye; If this really had been a game, and he seemed to be taking it like one, then he was cheating. Faye knew her shot had been good, but he was... he was too fast. One blink too many and he was somewhere else. It reminded her of being in the apartment with Vincent. One second too late and he was brandishing his own gun.

Her mouth was dry. She needed to leave. This was a bad idea. A bad idea. It was possibly worse than when she had gone after Vincent alone, possibly worse than when she had gone after Mao's bounty alone and Jesus Christ her arm was killing her. She needed to focus.

What he said went in one ear and out the other, but she retained enough of it through the slight haze to get the gist of what he was saying. He really wanted to have a goddamn conversation? Fuck that. She wanted out. "I stole it," she said truthfully, moving backward until she found the wall again, thinking she could edge along it and make a beeline for the door. It was the only option that she had left.

She watched him from her vantage point, breathing deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. And she only felt relief when she looked to her left and spotted an exit. Her pride would suffer, but running was her forte.

Joshua; Joshua was quite easily distracted, but when he had his eye on someone in combat, he never really took it off of them. The only times his spacey moments had ever worked against him had been with other demons. A normal human certainly had no hope. She had no hope. But he could admire her tenacity.

He dropped the sub-machine gun, and before it could clatter to the ground, he had her by the throat and hauled in the air. His horns were visible, and there was a malicious glint in his eye that hadn't been there before. Of course he didn't plan on killing her. There was no point, really... It wasn't kill or be killed in this situation. She hadn't committed so grievous a sin that she needed to be punished with death or eternal torture. Not like Cirucci.

"It's good that you're thinking of running," he said, and his voice had lost that childish pep to it. "That's what animals do when they know they can't win. They run and hide and nurse their wounds, and hopefully learn their lessons." He released her before she could be in any real danger of suffocating, but as soon as she hit the floor he was backhanding her clean into the pile of nearby crates.

Joshua's voice echoed in the warehouse, hollow and cold. "Everyone here is all talk, but at least they had a little something to bring to the table. What are you, Valentine? What did you bring? A boot to my foot?" He snorted as he strolled over to her. "Greed couldn't beat me. The Thunderwitch couldn't beat me. That mouthy Nero didn't even last ten minutes. I don't know how you've lasted as long as you have, when you're as stupid as this. You're not even as fun as the Thunderwitch... She can take a beating longer."

Faye; It was like being turned into a rag doll, molded into whatever position, tossed aside when the fun was over. Except Faye didn't think rag dolls could taste blood or feel the same mixture she was feeling. And she definitely wasn't having fun.

As soon as her arm connected with the ground, she wanted to kill him. She'd never felt like that before. She'd hated people before, she hated plenty of people, but Faye had never recognized this bubble in her chest prior to this moment. If she was ever handed the opportunity, she knew, without having to think about it, that she'd blow his head off, consequences be damned.

Faye was unsure which smarted the worst: the blow to her pride or the physicalities. She could still feel her Glock in her left hand, but it felt detached, like she was sensing the world through a cotton buffer. Joshua was saying something - evildoers always had to have their big dramatic speeches, didn't they? - but Faye could only hear it as if through a pane of thick glass, head swimming drunkenly as she sat up and pushed her hair back from her face, her gun cool against her forehead, the still air in the warehouse even cooler.

The last thing she wanted to be compared to or contrasted against was a raving lunatic like Cirucci, but when she tried to work her mouth to say these things, and to complain about the fact that he'd ruined her sweater, her evening, maybe even her firing arm, all that came out was, "Animals? Really? You know, last time I checked animals didn't use guns." She raised her eyes to look at him. Faye didn't care how much it hurt or what his next resulting slap would bring.

She wasn't bowing down to him like some submissive little lamb. Even if she couldn't fight him, she'd make damn sure he knew she wasn't afraid - never mind that, somewhere, somehow, she knew that she was. Maybe at an earlier time in her life, she would have admitted that fear to herself, but she was a different person now.

The only way to drive that home, though, was to open her mouth. And Faye did have a great mouth. "People can't beat you because you cheat," she said, and the hatred she felt was there in her tone. "Take it from a cheater. On a level-playing field, you'd be shit outta luck."

Joshua; "I'm pretty sure a monkey could use a gun if you taught it to," he chuckled, hands slipping back into his coat pockets. And when she continued on, Joshua stopped in front of her, his face unreadable as he surveyed her, the damage done to her, and whatever else he apparently thought was important to look at.

Then he laughed. It was nothing like the laugh of a maniac, or some sociopathic killer. It was just the laugh of a fifteen-year-old boy as if he had just been told the funniest joke ever, and it actually made him close his eyes and tip his head back a little, shoulders shaking. It was a good minute before he was done, but he would have stopped if she had tried to move. ...Sadly, she probably wasn't able to yet. That left ankle of hers looked like it would swell the following day.

When he was through, Joshua grinned and leaned over, grabbing her by the front of her shirt--if you could call such a skimpy thing that--and pulling her up. "I'm just using the powers given to me. And I'm not even using half of them on you. So trust me, I'm not cheating. You're just a weakling. You really can't play the game, Valentine. But..."

He let her go, just for a second, and slipped behind her. In case she was unable to support herself at this point, he let one arm grip her waist, drawing her back against him in a much more intimate position than she probably ever would have liked. Reaching up with his free arm, he grabbed hold of her right hand, and there was a smirk she couldn't see as he lifted it and gave it a tug. It would hurt, he knew, but he just carried on, stepping to the side and spinning around, as if guiding her in a dance. And that's just what it was.

"You sure could be a fun dancing partner if you had the power. I know you'd use it if you had it, too... The Thunderwitch, Greed, Nero... They didn't beg, either, but they're just dumb brutes. One of them simply happens to have nice legs. Perhaps...not as nice as yours, though." His grip was unyielding, had she tried to fight it. "But you're only human, and still you fight so hard. You're pretty stupid for a cheater...but you sure are stubborn. You aren't begging or anything. I like that. You'd be so perfect if you had power... I'd even give it to you if I could, just to see what you'd do with it. Still, no matter what you say, we're both animals. And I can smell fear."

Faye; She fought back the urge to spit in his face, not because she worried after his reaction, but because she didn't want to waste the energy. If she needed to run, she wanted to be able to do it the right way. Not that she could run very far on her ankle, not that she could even see straight to run anywhere.

Automatically, she jerked away, which only resulted in him pulling her arm more, and she could not, under any circumstances, stop herself from groaning, wobbling a bit, saying, "Fuck." Her voice didn't do anything ridiculous like crack or break, but it felt strangled, just like her head felt fuzzy and fat. She pulled back again, but his grip was stronger than she anticipated or at least pretended to anticipate. By now she knew better: lead around in some sick parody of a waltz, her ankle sore, and the urge to turn to face Joshua and headbutt him or strangle him or, hell, just bite him overwhelming in every sense.

The things he was saying bothered her on a deeper level. Cassidy had told her, literally, that he wanted her to be alright. She had told Nero not to do anything stupid. She had told Vash not to do anything stupid. And here she was, doing something fucking stupid, and she definitely wasn't alright. But Faye hadn't intended -- she didn't want -- She braced her good arm, though the fingers were sore, on his chest and shoved herself back as far as she was able so she actually could spit in his face. Fortunately for Joshua, Faye could spit like a man.

"I told you before, shut the fuck up. I'm not like you. Stop trying to find common ground just because you're a sick fuck," she said, and she knew this was it, all or nothing, get it out before it gets you out. "I don't give a damn what you think about me or what you think you know. Just let go and shut the fuck up."

Faye punctuated this with a twist. No matter how tight his grip, and no matter how sick and twisted this was - and it was sick and twisted, it was the very definition of the phrase - she wouldn't back down. He seemed to appreciate that, and if this was all about playing a game, Faye could play that one. "By the way," she started up again, biting her lip and twisting her arm to try and break his grip, "that's not fear you smell. It's your own bullshit."

Joshua; Really, if not for that figure, she definitely could put most men to shame with a personality like that. He let go of her hand so that he could rub his sleeve against his cheek quietly. Crude, rude...and really funny. Still, she wasn't doing a very good job of ensuring she'd live through this. The woman certainly liked to walk a thin line, didn't she?

"No, it's fear," he responded cheerily, apparently immune to any of her attempted barbs. "And maybe a little blood." He grabbed her tightly, then, one arm around her middle to secure both of arms at her sides, and he squeezed the right one just a little harder than necessary. Joshua let one hand circle her throat once more, covering what was already a growing bruise so that he could force her to look straight away from him. He didn't care to get spit on again. This way, she most she could do was step on his foot again...and that really, really wasn't going to do much.

His nails, which could have felt like talons at this point, dug into her neck when he forced her head back, lips touching the shell of her ear as he spoke quietly, and rather pleasantly. "I can tell pride is more important to you than your own body... Admirable, for a harlot. So I'm going to let you keep your pride. I'm going to let you walk out of here, and you can go back home and see your boyfriend and your friends, and you can tell them you were out for a walk. You can tell them you were whoring yourself for rent, or that you fought me and beat me in five seconds. You can look at the world, and it won't know a thing unless you tell it. For your pride, you can have the world."

There was a long pause, then, as a warmth began to spread from his hands, soon followed by a light shimmer. In seconds, Faye's body was emanating a soft glow, bringing warmth in the cold evening, and soon enough the bruises, cuts, and broken bones mended themselves. What should have been a painful process only felt like the touch of an angel...or rather, the touch of an Apostle. It was still in him, after all, and it was the only time his cold dead body could offer such warmth.

It left him exhausted, but still he knew she would be no match for him, so it didn't matter. He was practically panting from healing so many injuries at once, and his voice trembled as he continued. "But you and me, we'll get to remember tonight. You'll get to go to sleep knowing I can break you, and I can fix you, and I can break you all over again, and no one will ever know unless you tell them. And go ahead and tell them if you want, that for all your pride and beauty, you are just a pitiful animal that a devil took mercy upon."

And with a soft sound that seemed caught between a growl and a chuckle, he stroked her hair and was gone.

Faye; She listened, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pinched, not making a sound and barely breathing. All she wanted was for him to shut up, shut up so she could go home, take a bath, and live with this stupid decision for the rest of her time here. Never before had she wanted to be anywhere else but in the City as much as she did right then. Joshua's hands were vices, his voice in her ear a cold, dead hand infecting her senses.

He was right, but Faye didn't let it show, only arching back from his fingers as they sought to break skin - and this was the worst, invasive and painful and if he wasn't holding her so tightly she would've kneed his balls by now. She, instead, concentrated on what Joshua was saying, because she knew she'd hear it again, and because she wanted to retaliate.

But she never got the chance, not even to open her mouth or open her eyes before he hit her with something even more invasive. Faye hadn't expected it, not that she knew what it was, but when she realized what was happening, she tried to get back again. Whatever he was doing, she didn't want it. Over her dead body would he--

Oh.

Oh.

Faye took a deep breath and let it out shakily. Whatever it was, it was as horrible as it was euphoric. It was warm and comforting and it felt good. It felt so good. Better than anything. Better than a vodka buzz or a hot bath or laying in the sun for four hours. As good as Cassidy could make her feel and better than she'd been in too long. Faye didn't know if it was the relief, feeling good after feeling awful for too long now, that made her spine twist and her fingers curl into fists. She couldn't tell, but it was as wonderful as it was disgusting, and when it faded, she felt sick to her stomach, like she'd puke at any moment if he didn't let go, if he did let go.

His breath ghosting across the slight distance between them, she heard his voice shake as he spoke and smoothed her hair - another disturbing trait - but took his threat no less seriously. Nonetheless, Faye steeled herself, perhaps feeling new resolve now that her arm was no longer a disaster, now that she could stand on both feet, but before she could say a word in response, she realized that she was standing alone.

There was still a bad taste in her mouth, but she didn't know what to assign it to, just that it was there, like the little waves of phantom sensation that kept running up and down her back, giving her goosebumps.