come_sailaway | monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

CW: death, probably gore, possibly more TBA

[and that’s what you missed on glee.

and so, there “Friday” is, standing on the roof of the bar. the attention of the party has surely turned to her by this point, but she doesn’t care about that. she just needs one person to still be a little too distracted to stop what was coming next.

Monday snaps her fingers, and Jenny disappears from wherever she was standing before, reappearing directly in front of Monday, who embraces her from behind, an arm wrapped firmly around her middle. those with enhanced senses might catch what she whispers, seconds before she snaps Jenny’s neck so hard it hangs at a 90 degree angle as Monday kicks her, her corpse toppling forward onto the deck below.]

Surprise, bitch.

[well, there. unfinished business settled. onto more pertinent matters.]

Let’s get a little more comfortable first, hm? Can’t waste too much of her magic, but audiences love a quick change.

[she snaps her fingers, and Monday finds herself in an outfit that is far more to her taste. now. time for her grand performance.]

Greetings, foolish mortals! You may or may not have noticed that things have been a little bit different this month. While the Captain is off having a good old bitch cry about whatever it is he’s so upset about, poor little Friday was running herself ragged keeping this shitheap floating! She was so distracted, in fact, that she happened to have a little accident, while fixing something in the elevator shaft! [a laugh] I guess even clay bitches can break their necks! And there I was, sitting in Fucking Nowhere, doing Fucking Nothing, feeling Fucking. Nothing! And I saw her empty shell. And I was, like, hey, free real estate!

Whatever tear in the veil that your whiny little Captain just didn’t feel like fixing? I ripped that fucker right open. And you’ve all met a few of the sorry little fuckers that fell out already, hm? [another snap] Not all of them, but, hey, that’s what now is for, right? Because, see, we all kinda got together a little bit, and we were like… You know, just borrowing some shitty bodies to have some fun for a few weeks? What a waste! And we still have a lot of bitches we need to spring from jail!

And that! Is where you assholes come in! And, trust me, you are all assholes. Have you even seen some of the psychotic shit you people have said and done to us? Like, yeah, Mary is legitimately insane, but she’s still a kid! Even I’m not gonna call a fucking nine year old a bitch!

You can try to run, but I fucking hate running in heels, so I made that a little bit… difficult. So. Why don’t you nice people just lay down and let us kill you. I’ll be gentle. Promise.

[perhaps people have tried to flee already. they likely have. and they’ve found that the entire party area has been blocked off by the same sort of barrier that surrounds the realm, an invisible orb holding them captive.]

Now. Let’s get the actual party started!

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[she's searching for Fio through the crowd, flickering through the the fog, and then there's bullets. one that passes through her harmlessly, and she doesn't stick around to figure out where it hit but instead to identify the source.

the drums make it extremely easy to track down Pickles, although at first she's not quite sure it's him. well, not Sharky anyway. not without the beard, and that... feels like a complete violation of her friend that hits her in a way that nothing else quite has.

so distracted at the party, Ava never checked her phone to read the final text Pickles sent. but it's no time for regrets nor sentimentality. she'll feel that later.

for now, she approaches him, eyes narrowed, and puts an end to his drumming by slicing right through his drum with her phase claws.]

You! Lied! To! Me!

[he's two-thirds the way through the second song of the night when he sees Ava in the crowd and realizes he's not gonna get a third. the desire to keep ava out of this is pretty much gone by this point, though; it's been replaced by the resignation that someone else is gonna have to take her place. maybe they'll hate it, maybe they won't, he doesn't know -- just -- damn it! he knew he should've kicked her out himself! he could have led her away and --

HOLY SHIT WHAT ARE THOSE.

he falls back off the stool as Ava tears the drum to pieces, immediately flailing out for the shotgun he'd dropped nearby -- except no rounds, motherfucker, shit --

he's got two options. kick, or stab. he'll go with... the knife he'd gotten back from the bar, with a little shark on it. it's his now, he's the shark in the water, and he's gonna slash straight at her with sweeping, wild strokes.]

It wasn't personal! I'm not goin' back, you aren't puttin' me back--!

You were just. GOING TO. [a vicious swipe through the rest of the drumset, even though it's not technically in her way, she's too pissed to care, kicking over the little cymbal stand with a noisy clang]

LET ME. GET TAKEN OVER?

[she's taking it very personally, and she slashes right back at the knife and his hand holding it. a knife might be sharp but her claws cut straight through matter]

AFTER I. SAVED. YOUR. ASS?

[the pain is unimaginable and Pickles screeches as he drops what's left of the knife and, uhhh, if that's part of his hand he's going to lose it -- ha ha ha, get it?]

What -- NO! [he should have sent her the text sooner, he should have warned her -- but he knows that wouldn't have done jack shit so what would be the point of regretting that now?] Not you, I didn't want you here!

[but since she is, he's absolutely going to try to kick her with all his might. right between the legs, even -- it ain't personal but he will try and hit her where it hurts!]

[the audacity! her laugh is annoyed when his kick goes right through her because did he really think she'd allow it? she catches at his leg with her claws, twisting to throw his weight to the ground and tearing through flesh with glitching gashes in the process.]

I tried to be nice to you! I FELT SORRY FOR YOU!

[she crouches over Pickles, almost reaches for the fallen cymbal to bash him with... and then gets a very different idea. she smashes one of her bare feet into his face instead.]

[there isn't even any blood, which is like, the worst part, he hates dying painfully and not leaving behind anything to show for it --

he is a wailing, drooling mess as he flails all his limbs to try and do anything to delay what's too obvious, too inevitable, screaming at the top of his lungs with bloodthirsty horror,] I WON'T GO BACK I WON'T GO BACK YOU CAN'T MAKE ME GO BACK --

[the words are cut off when she stomps down on his face, tongue bit clean through by one of his few remaining teeth. it fucking sucks. the pain is almost as awful as the idea of becoming nothing again.

still, getting curb stomped by a woman's bare foot is, as the Smiths say, a heavenly way to die. thank you, angel, he'd say if he had a working jaw to say anything --]

Say hello to Malcolm for me. [she knows that's not how it works, that he'll be consumed by nothing. it's pretty fucked up, she's not okay with this fate. but. she's done being merciful.

she gives a twist of her foot against his face, letting Pickles enjoy these final few moments before she plunges her claws straight into his chest and completely obliterates his heart, leaving a flickering and gaping hole as she retracts her hand.]

Oh, Sharky... [she'll cry about it later, if she makes it through the night. she stands and looks away, searching for her next target.]

monday's child is fair of face (2/2)

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