i think i'm too small now

[noneedforheroic.livejournal.com]

Characters: tasercopter and noneedforheroic
Date: June 12th
Summary: A bonfire.
Warnings: Blood and gore and language.

It's been... strange, being followed around by a pile of corpses. Comical, almost, if it weren't quite so fucking grotestque the way it scrapes and slithers after her. Twitching and death-rattling along in her wake.

She knows exactly what it is, knows exactly what fear its playing off of. She'd only crouched down once, when she'd first found it, touched Elena's blood stained face and tried her damnedest to heal her, to heal Tseng, and all of the others. She knows who they are, fine cut in dark blue suits, turned black from the damp blood that continues to spill out of them in slow rivulets. Ghosts don't run out of blood, apparently, and she hasn't tried again.

Rude's pretty sure it's going to puddle around her shoes if she stands here for too long. And she's been standing here a while now. It's been five blighted days since all this shit started, five days of sobbing and screams all throughout the Gardens, those with clear heads forced to gather up the weak before this place turns into a madhouse. Or a bloodbath.

She brings her cigarette back to her mouth and then exhales, watching with narrowed eyes as blood drips out of Tseng's mouth in kind.

She's been trying to ignore it, but it's getting there: the feeling up the back of her neck that's part frustration and part revulsion. She knows what it wants her to think, wants her to think about failure, wants her to think about the day that Tseng saved their lives even though she was their superior and could have left them to die, wants her to think about Elena taking a bullet for her even though she was a rookie and didn't know what the fuck she was doing.

She's noticed Rufus is missing, and she's waiting for it. It doesn't surprise her he'd take his sweet time, but then again she cannot possibly imagine what he might have to say. They've been loyal to him, devoted beyond anything their contracts could possibly have implied. That's why her Turks are so silent, because devotion just isn't enough.

...She needs a drink, and she needs to take care of this.

She gets the vine to come on over to her and breathes into it,

"Red. Where you at?" She brings that cigarette back to her mouth, inhaling deep. "Find something to drink, we're having a bonfire."

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[noneedforheroic.livejournal.com]

Rude relinquishes the grog without a fight and when her arm is free, she slings it loosely around her partner's shoulders. Maybe it would have been harder if Red had been in the pile, she's not going to think on that too hard. She's content to be grateful someone has her back, someone who wasn't going to shrink back from the idea of showing these damn phantoms exactly what they think of their bullshit.

It's a noisy sort of defiance, a lot of sound and fury to cover up the fact that it still hits home no matter how cold-hearted and level-headed they are. They can pretend they don't humor the monarch's insolent nonsense, but that doesn't change the fact they've got a funeral pyre burning for the brothers and sisters beyond their reach, who might end up just like this while the Queen has the two of them running circles. There's no crying for the lost, Turk protocol.

Rude watches the flames licking after the shapes of her boss and her comrades, but there's nothing really there to catch light, and soon there's only smoke and ashes. The ghosts may come back, they probably will considering what she's been watching on the vine, but they'll meet the same fate all night long. She and Reno may be covered in blood and mold from hefting their carcasses into the blaze over and over again, but that's where they belong and that's where she'll see them stay.

"Now it's a party," an idle murmur.

[tasercopter.livejournal.com]

"That's right. The party doesn't start till something's on fire." It's a big fire, too, her favorite kind. She takes the bottle, takes a drink, accepts the arm over her shoulders. Rude's warm, and it feels good. This is probably harder on Rude than it is on her. Not that she thinks Rude's weak, but they're different. Reno doesn't like to see the others like this, but in her gut, maybe even on a cellular level, she can sense it's not real, so it can't really touch her. She feels a thrill move through her body as the corpses burn and the smoke rises. She might not care for the disrespect, but it is a little fun.

Even with this current mess, things are too peaceful here for her. Some more fire's what this place needs. She wasn't made for peace. "I miss blowing shit up."

When Rude's more grim, Reno lightens up, partly in direct response, partly because they tend to balance each other out naturally. "It's too bad all of 'em showed up in such bad shape. I wonder if anyone's tried to fuck one of these fakes. Maybe fake Elena'd actually put out." She laughs.

[noneedforheroic.livejournal.com]

"Nah," Rude answers with a grim little smile. "Don't think we're meant to have any fun with these things."

Their balancing act is just the oil to a complicated machine. They all spent time in each other's heads, learning all the ticks and tells and signals. Secrets made people uncomfortable, and the Turks liked to have all the secrets. But you can't just get by on silence and intimidation, and the others did their part, Reno with snide insults, and Tseng with cold threats, and Elena was pretty damn good at haughty disdain when she wanted to be, and it all led to emotions and mistakes in their enemies.

The balancing act and the well-oiled machine, it was there to keep them from getting too emotional, making mistakes and Red will keep her head clear. A few of its pieces had just gone up in flames before them, but there was a central hub to all their operations kept safe between the two of them. Maybe that was part of the bother, being separated from the family with no real estimated return. She'd like that drink back now, Reno.

"Nothing worth blowing up out here anyway," she reflects, motion around blandly. "Nothing but trees and shit. Goddamn boondocks is what it is."

[tasercopter.livejournal.com]

"I had fun with Kitty's. I got to give it shit and fight it." That had been a bright spot, fighting and giving shit being two of her favorite things. "These ones were a little entertaining." Reno doesn't like admitting to being bothered, so she won't, making light as usual. "Here and there. Everybody all together. We should've thrown a party." She laughs, imagining Rufus in a party hat (a thing that would never happen), watching the flames dance. Plague and corpses, just like the good old days. And the relatively recent days. And probably the near future. "If they come back, we should. Then we can burn them again."

She hands the booze back to Rude, sensing what she wants. She knows when to pass the bottle; it's second nature to her.

"Sometimes it doesn't matter if you've got something worth blowing up. Sometimes it's good enough just to have an explosion." She frowns, then, as she notices some movement on the periphery of her vision. She turns toward it. Something animal. "What the fuck is that?"