THE THIRD STANDARDISED OCCURRENCE OF VIOLENCE PREREQUISITE TO ROMAN ANTZ (Jacky+Invisimort)

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(Brief synopsis: Skelet walked in on T.Mor and Bells standing and leaning against a wall talking about coffee. He has since been all "Bells... Kill the spare." only with an accent... and not Voldemort. Bells is all like "...whaa...no thank you..." only also with an accent. T.Mor is all like "wait...I'm not...erm... an ...'it'...uh...*awkwards*"Only with less talking and more ellipsis.

Skelet has just mentioned how the next thing was going to be Bells naming 'it'. Sure enough...)


 Bells: "It's T Morbid...something. And 'e's not a rat, 'e's more like a puppy." *doesn't pick up the gun*

T.Mor: ...Namechov...*supplied to well, towards the floor, and probably only loud enough for the floor to hear it as well.* *kind of like...Happy that Bells remembered that much...and also, shocked that he is still not dead. And like...yeah.*

Bells

I'd be in for it with Skelet later, especially if I didn't listen now. He might've been a bastard-- Aye. No secret, there-- but I would miss his arms around me that night . . . he was a warm, safe haven . . . how could I betray him? I looked down at the gun under my foot, and felt a bit of guilt nipping at the back of my mind. His icy eyes met mine when I looked over my shoulder. Oh bother. The lines etched around his eyes were deepened . . . he was angry at me. Hell.

Just one swift movement, and a pull of a trigger, and I could have Skelet back.

"Skelet, do I have to?" I pleaded.

At that, Skelet's mouth curled into a grin. "Bells, lassie, you're such a spoiled bitch. You've got t' learn sometime, aye?" He slipped something out of his pocket . . . Oh bother, a dull knife, blood stains on the handle. I bit my lip. Was that for me, or for . . . ? He sauntered back to T.Mor, poking it under his chin to make him look up. "A'right, then, T Morbid, see 'ere. See . . . you're a peice o' shit. You don't get a name, and th' only grave markings you'll get is th' blood in th' water, savvy? As for you, Dove," I froze when his eyes flashed back to me. "Pick up th' f***ing gun. I'll count t' ten . . ." As he talked, he slowly drug his knife across the puppy's cheek. I'd been expecting that. It would be an eye, the gang sign. ". . . and for each second you don't shoot, your pet loses a finger. Or an eye. Whatever's convenient at th' time."

T.Mor:

Ok. So...I wonder if I have this right or not...Because...it seems like... I was in trouble for...existing. Or... for existing and knowing Bells. I mean, ok...she has said that whenever someone was around from Luna...that I had to pretend not to know her...but I hadn't expected anything like this... This was bad...uhm.

I mean... I thought it was like being a ginger... You just kind of accept that no one will ever talk to you ever, and get on with... having a sucky life... like...everyone else in Auda. Only...ok, suckier. Generally... I guess.

But...uhm... I'm pretty sure that I'm not an 'it'.

I listened to the conversation, somewhat concerned for what was going to happen to --oh. There was suddenly a knife under my chin.

Well... that... that explains what's going to happen then. Uhm. According to this Skelet guy, he was going to kill me and dump my body in a river. ...uhm. ...Er. This guy...he...he wasn't really like Mr.Face... Mr.Face... I knew what to expect. Knives, acid... wood files... Creepy, creepy, smiling... but this was like...different than that. I mean... Mr.Face typically... well, except for eyes... he doesn't touch your face. Ever. And...well, now I was going to have scars there too.

If I lived.

I mean...I completely understand if she shoots me...uhm...cos... like... I would probably do the same thing- like... if I was being told to by Mr.Face or someone like that... so that I wouldn't have to deal with more acid burns... and I mean... It's not really like I deserve to live anyway...so... It's alright in the long run... Me dying...would help someone who was nice to me be not dead. Seemed... fair. or...something...

Making pain faces while someone cuts into your face...Is.. not the best idea... uhm...I mean..it's like... painful. Painful-er. I was also not really anticipating losing digits... another...benefit of having Mr.Face as an employer... you might not have ligaments at the end of your workday... but... At least... you wouldn't be missing... fingers and stuff...

Again though...if I was dead anyway... none of that....cosmetic stuff....really mattered...because... I would be...dead.

If Bells decided not to shoot me.. It would be...er...really nice of her...but...uhm. At this particular moment... that...that might have been easier than...like... being dismembered or something...

Uhm.

Yeah.

Despite the little fire of pain on my face that made me want to squish my face up, I tried to look at her in a sort of 'I understand completely you know... you can shoot if you want... It's fine...' kind of way. I dunno how well that really worked, because... well, my face...really hurt. It was definitely a short look.

Bells

Puppy looked at me . . . Don't look at me like that! There was a bloody little eye carving running down his bony cheek. That was just the start of the damage around the corner, if I didn't kill him first. My fingers itched to pick up the gun.

"One." Skelet made one final drag in the Outlander's skin, then cocked his head to inspect his artwork. "Now you're sure you don't want t' simply kill th' thing, Bells? Of all th' miserable creatures in th' world . . . this one looks 'ardly alive. Now where t' start . . ."

Oh bother. The poor thing . . . ". . . wait," I said, and stooped to grab hold of the gun. It clicked in my hand, and Skelet looked at me with approval. Butterflies fluttered in my chest, at that.

But my finger remained frozen on the trigger. I didn't . . . like . . . killing people. He wasn't a person. It wasn't a crime. But behind the soot-colored hair and skeleton body, his eyes looked almost . . . human. His voice was very human as well. He wasn't a person at all, but it felt like it. ". . . Um." Shoot, and I'd be guilty, don't shoot, and I'd be guilty . . . but maybe if Skelet cut his face up he wouldn't look as human anymore, and then I wouldn't feel as guilty killing him.

Skelet watched me a moment. ". . . let's start with th' nose, shall we?" I saw him press the blade on the bridge of T.Mor's nose, but I looked away after that.

T.Mor:

She picked up the gun. ...Good... Then... than this...wouldn't suck... as much. For her.

And then...I was not hit by a bullet.

Which...er... was...not good. I mean...ok... in some ways it was good because I was not dead... But also in other ways...It was bad... because...I was not dead... and so...

Then...apparently... I would have...bad things happen...to my nose apparently. I felt his knife dig into the bridge of my nose...Gah... She should just...shoot me...

"Er...if you...I mean... just...uhm..." I tried to tell her to do just that. Of course... words... never really work for me... so... It just came out as... really tense and in pain...er... how I usually talk.

I probably shouldn't have said anything... but... I mean.. if.... if it wasn't my face... I would be... er... ok with this...kind of... erm... violence. But... this... and... I mean... no one told me....to shut up so... er.

Just shoot me... just shoot me... seriously... I mean... uhm...

Skelet

I let the Outlander babble, taking my time, and then held his head up with a hand and pressed the knife with the other, harder until I felt something give. One crack, and the knife slipped almost all the way through. Strange. Most would be squirming by now, but this one was just letting me cut away at him as if it were routine to get his nose cut off. I hadn't even had to hold him down.

Occasionally, I glanced back at Bells, whose face was paler than usual. Lass looked gorgeous as always . . . shame, she had a dark bruise under her eye where I'd hit her with the gun. Bitch had to learn. She was mine. Running around flirting with anything that moves wouldn't do, no, not at all. The gun was still pointed at the Outlander.

Something came loose into my hand. Ah, there was a bloody gash on the Outlander's face where his nose used to be. I let it drop to the ground, grinning at Bells' squimish expression that she was trying so desperately to hide. "What comes after One, Dove? You might want t' shoot b'fore I remember."

T.Mor:

...Again... I dunno why Mr.Face like... was so...against chopping things off... It hurt like... like... expletives... agh... I felt my face scrunch up again.

Something cracked. I heard something crack... I felt something crack... And part of me was like... well... you're going to have to sharpen that knife when you get home, aren't you? Just... doing that like that...going...straight through bone... Why did I know this? ...oh...right...work...

And the other part of me was...in lots of pain.

Then my nose...was...er...on the floor. My face...was this awkward...feeling of... somewhat empty...and firey pain that could probably only be worsened by acid.

I shot Bells another look. Just shoot me. Just shoot me, and...er...don't... give yourself the trouble. I am not worth the trouble on your part, so just get it over with, and shoot me.

"Bells...uhm...just... ...do it..." I finally managed to make words happen a little bit... and then I had blood in my mouth. Blood...tastes funny. Maybe. I dunno. I was kind of in a lot of pain at the moment...

Bells

My hands were quivering as I held the gun. T.Mor was looking at me again, but I could only steal glances at the bloody mess. One slice, and he was unrecogniseable. I felt sick, a lump growing in my throat that made it hard to swallow. No more of this. It's a horrible feeling, not being able to look at someone you adore without disgust. He'd been cute, in a way . . . pathetic, but cute. Not anymore.

"Two." Skelet twirled his knife once, and then poked around puppy's eye in a contemplating way.

The sick feeling in me grew, and I bit my lip hard to keep myself from crying. I couldn't have apologised. I didn't trust myself to talk. I pulled the trigger in a spurt of desperation, firing once at his head.

Skelet smiled.

T.Mor:

That... there was... there was a knife by my eye...There was a knife by my eye... oh expletives.... This... I was not looking forward to this...

Gahhh... If she didn't shoot me... I was not going to have an eye. ...er. ...That... that was... not good.

Bells looked kind of....a mess... which...I get... But... hopefully she realised that dakka was... better in this situation.

And then...finally... she fired.

Thank you Internet.

I registered being blown backwards a bit and falling over... and then...er...well... that was it wasn't it?

Bells

"I'm proud o' you, lassie," Skelet said, reaching out to stroke my cheek. There was a pleased glint in his etched expression. I held my breath until his red-stained hand drew away, but then, he nodded at the body. "Clean up. You'll know where to find me afterwards."

***

I didn't leave Skelet's side for the rest of the night. In the depths of the dying buildings the wove through Luna, he would chatter at his men, laughing over whiskey, and I curled up next to his feet. Every now and again he would stroke my hair. The gesture felt nice, easing the guilt that hit me whenever I looked down and saw the blood on my clothes . . . I would miss the Outlander, though . . .

T.Mor:

The one thing about scars on your face... well... they were on your face. No hiding that.

But...I had my nose back...which was good...and...I wasn't dead...anymore...which was...also good... and yeah.

I sat down and curled into my knees to chest position. That... that had been... intense. I mean... agh. She... she wasn't... That Skelet guy... I hadn't even been...

Well. I had been warned hadn't I? ...My thoughts were a bit of a jumbled mess. I was a person. Not an 'it'. But... at the same time... She'd remembered most of my name... and... killed me... which, ordinarily isn't...good, but.. since the alternative was...bad... Being dead was a good thing.

I didn't entirely know what to think...Or...something. I dunno.

Maybe a cup of coffee would make stuff more...less... a mess... in my brain.

Bells

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I walked in. He was right there . . . ! A million stories of ghosts and spirits split through my mind until I remembered: I was fiction, and so was he. That was a lot to get used to. His nose was back . . . but I could see the eye still on his cheek. I glanced around anxiously, before taking a couple hesitant steps closer. ". . . puppy . . . ? What're you doing 'ere?"

T.Mor:

"...sitting..." I muttered. I paused for a moment before trying to say more words. "...so...I'm...I'm an...'it'?" I asked, kind of... I dunno. I mean... I'm a person. Not a good person, but...a person.

I wasn't sure if that was the best way to start this conversation, but...well...I'd already said it so..it was a bit late now, wasn't it?

Bells

". . . of course," I murmered, half reassuring myself. Murdering an 'it', I could handle, but if he were a person . . . I felt sick, suddenly very aware of the blood still dried on my shirt.

I smiled softly, walking over to curl up next to him. "But . . . I don't care, T.Mor. You're still precious, laddie . . ." In that moment, I almost, almost, said I was sorry. The words caught in my throat instead. My eyes trailed across his new scar, and my smile faded.

T.Mor:

Well...

Uhm.

I'm not sure...if I like being an it. If...if I'm ok with it. I looked at her, kind of... unhappy with that. "...I'm...I'm not...though..." I muttered. "I'm..not an 'it'." Why was I so...quiet? I mean...agh. She was being nice...so...why did I care about the technicalities?

I mean... she was complimenting me...and I was getting hung up on whether or not I counted as a person... which... really... sounds kind of...silly. What...what did it matter?

But...for some reason... it did.

Bells

I shook my head, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "No, you're not a person . . . you're not, and you won't ever be, and you weren't ever before--" I cut myself off, trying to sort out my thoughts. Nothing matched up. He had two eyes, a beating heart, lips that spoke just like anyone else, yet there was some enourmous gap between us. He just . . . wasn't. There was no question. He was not like me. My brow furrowed. "No, you're different, T.Mor, you're very different . . . and nothing's going to change that."

T.Mor:

Well... That... that just wasn't right. I mean... Even gingers were people. Not people with souls...but, people... I mean... you could friend them and be banninated. You can't friend people that...aren't people...

"Then... then...what's different?" I asked. "What...what makes you... more...real?" I was almost hesitant to ask this...I mean... uhm... er. I looked back at my knees again. My knees...didn't have facial expressions to have to...look at. I mean... she was clearly having...thoughts...about this...but uhm. er.

Uh.

Bells

I paused. " . . . my hair . . . my eyes . . . your type are imperfect. That's the difference."

T.Mor:

"...We...We have that... In Auda... but...we don't kill people about it...I mean... Gingers... just... kind of... get...ignored. So so...we don't get...banninated. Because...gingers have no souls..." I stated. I mean...this situation was... so... familiar, but...so... different.

"Do...Do I have a soul?" I asked after a moment, wondering if that could be the... underlying logic.

I...I may have been a terrible person...but...I was...a person. Pretty sure. It was a bit... infuriating. This.

Bells

I thought about that a moment. "Well . . . Outlanders can go to Hell . . . perhaps you do."

T.Mor:

"Well then...how...how am I not...how am I not a person? I mean...uhm...?" I asked, looking back at her again. It was like... Maybe I could...see...I dunno. Something. An answer? Or just...I dunno. I really don't know. How her face worked...maybe.

"If...If I have a soul... then...I'm not...I'm not a ginger. And...therefore...uh..." Wait. This was starting to sound like I thought gingers weren't people... which...isn't entirely true...but...agh. That... That wasn't really...important at the moment. "Therefore... a...person." I tried to reason.

Bells

That couldn't be right. It wasn't right . . . he was flawed. Born flawed. "If you 'ave a soul, and it makes you a person, then mate, you're a person that doesn't matter. Outlanders are mistakes, T.Mor . . . you're just . . ." I bit down on my lip. Why did I still feel like crying? He wasn't anything to cry about. " . . . I like you, T.Mor . . . maybe I shouldn't. I'm not allowed to."

T.Mor:

As long as I was a person... how much I was...worth, didn't matter. Because...yeah. I knew I was a bad guy. I knew I deserved to go die in a fire... That... that...wasn't the issue here.

She was biting her lip..."uhm... you could...bite a hole...through...that...and...er... that... that... would...be bad.." I muttered. Another thing I learned from Mr.Face. Wierd. Why was it that he said stuff...that kind of... was...applicable to... real stuff sometimes?

And then I registered the rest of her sentence. ...She liked me. ...I was barely even a person... but I was...likeable. That... that... that...uhm. Er. Uh. Uhm.

But if she was breaking her rules...I didn't want her to get banninated... for... er... talking to me and stuff... because... that... that would be bad. And... I didn't want things to be bad for her... because... she was nice.

I just kind of stared at her for a bit. "...er...uhm..." Then I was looking at the floor. Honestly... the floor probably knew me better than most of my friends... I was always talking to it...and making faces at it...I looked back up after a bit. "...What?"

Bells

I couldn't understand much at all of what he was trying to say. "Ah . . ." I raised an eyebrow, feeling a touch of sarcasm come back to my voice. It felt good, that edgy tone. Made me forget that I was a bit upset at the moment. "I like you? Stop getting into situations that make me kill you, please and thanks? What are you trying t' get me t' say?"

T.Mor:

"Well...if...If...Is that ok? I mean...If I'm not...uhm...a...person... then... I, I don't want to get you... all... in trouble...for... talking to me... uhm... and... and... I dunno..." I rambled. " If...If It keeps you from getting in trouble... uhm... you can kill me....whenever..." Wow. That... that didn't sound funny at all.

See...I wish I was better at talking. This... this wouldn't be nearly as... awkward or... unintelligible if I could just... say words fast and in order like people who talk better than I do. It was just...hard to do. I mean... uhm...Like...er.

I didn't know what else to say that would make any sense. "...er...you're...nice..." Ok...except that, apparently. It felt like it came a bit out of nowhere...but...It wasn't wrong...so...erm...yeah. I looked back at my knees all...awkwardlike.