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tampered2008-08-09 09:13 pm
notapreacher.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-08-09 09:13 pm
Log; Completed
When; Sunday afternoon, 3:00
Rating; G
Characters; Vicious (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
becomedemons) and Gren (notapreacher)
Summary; They don't really qualify as old friends, but it's a meeting that's long overdue.
Log;
At ten minutes to three, Gren looks at the loaded gun in his hand. It's the Colt, the one he picked up on the rooftop in Callisto, after losing his H&K in the confusion. It's not a handgun he particularly likes, and the fact that it probably belongs to the man he killed doesn't endear it to him either. Vicious's words from last night come back to him: I'm going to ask you go through a metal detector if we're going to sit down for coffee.
For all intents and purposes, Vicious already killed him twice. The first time was the minute he heard who testified against him and the second was up there on the rooftop in Blue Crow. One was figurative and one was literal, but both were... well, he could have done without either of them. He has no idea why he's agreed to this... meeting, this get-together, this bizarre sit-down. But he has, and that's all there is to it. After thinking about it (yes, no, yes, no, flip a coin) he sets the safety on the gun and puts it away.
He's already dead anyway. What's the worst that can happen?
At five minutes to three, he locks his door and steps into the hallway, half expecting to see Vicious waiting there but the hall is empty. With a shrug that's half relieved and half amused, he walks down to the lobby and steps out into the street. Julia and Faye will no doubt berate him later for going out unarmed, but there comes a time when all a man can do is leave things to fate. This is one of those times. Wishing he still smoked, he leans back against the building and looks around, but he doesn't see Vicious anywhere. Maybe he won't show up. Maybe he ought to start walking toward a coffee shop anyway. Or maybe he ought to turn tail, go back upstairs, and barricade himself in his apartment. At least that way he can listen to the clock ticking, let it hypnotize him into thinking he's ever had a shot at normalcy here anyway. Maybe drink himself to sleep.
None of these options are particularly attractive.
Rating; G
Characters; Vicious (
becomedemons) and Gren (notapreacher)Summary; They don't really qualify as old friends, but it's a meeting that's long overdue.
Log;
At ten minutes to three, Gren looks at the loaded gun in his hand. It's the Colt, the one he picked up on the rooftop in Callisto, after losing his H&K in the confusion. It's not a handgun he particularly likes, and the fact that it probably belongs to the man he killed doesn't endear it to him either. Vicious's words from last night come back to him: I'm going to ask you go through a metal detector if we're going to sit down for coffee.
For all intents and purposes, Vicious already killed him twice. The first time was the minute he heard who testified against him and the second was up there on the rooftop in Blue Crow. One was figurative and one was literal, but both were... well, he could have done without either of them. He has no idea why he's agreed to this... meeting, this get-together, this bizarre sit-down. But he has, and that's all there is to it. After thinking about it (yes, no, yes, no, flip a coin) he sets the safety on the gun and puts it away.
He's already dead anyway. What's the worst that can happen?
At five minutes to three, he locks his door and steps into the hallway, half expecting to see Vicious waiting there but the hall is empty. With a shrug that's half relieved and half amused, he walks down to the lobby and steps out into the street. Julia and Faye will no doubt berate him later for going out unarmed, but there comes a time when all a man can do is leave things to fate. This is one of those times. Wishing he still smoked, he leans back against the building and looks around, but he doesn't see Vicious anywhere. Maybe he won't show up. Maybe he ought to start walking toward a coffee shop anyway. Or maybe he ought to turn tail, go back upstairs, and barricade himself in his apartment. At least that way he can listen to the clock ticking, let it hypnotize him into thinking he's ever had a shot at normalcy here anyway. Maybe drink himself to sleep.
None of these options are particularly attractive.