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

Bells

"No . . . I'm sorry . . ." I said, almost choking on the words. I had to say so, though, as if it would make him stay. He didn't deserve my bleeding all over him. ". . . You won't leave . . . won't you?"

T.Mor:

Why...Why would I leave? ...I mean... really.

...Really.

Ok...realistically... If she didn't stop oozing in a bit... I was going to have to go find more socks... but...er... That isn't like... bad... I hope...erm... Cos... That's just me trying to keep her from being dead...so...er...

But...I don't think she needed to hear that...I mean...erm... Logistics... weren't good...all the time... especially when you were...kind of... covered in your own gore...

"...I'll be here... uhm...yeah..." I answered her.

Bells

My mind was spinning. I was ugly, and Skelet didn't want me anymore . . . and now that Skelet didn't want me, I was as worthless as an Outlander.

I bit back the sting of T.Mor's arms still around me. See . . . he was the only one I had left, like somehow I was the broken toy, and he'd decided to keep me. That wasn't normal. Either he was a freak, or, he was just a nice guy . . . a really nice guy.

So . . . did that mean that all this time, I'd been on the wrong side?

I had absolutely no clue where I was supposed to go from here. Except, to T.Mor . . . who didn't seem so pathetic to me anymore. ". . . Thanks . . ."

T.Mor:

"...It's... the... the least... I can do... I mean...er... yeah..." I muttered. I mean... she could have asked me for... well, ok... probably not anything because...well, stuff costs money and things... stuff... but...she could have asked me for anything that I could actually afford, and knew what it was...and...yeah.. I would have gone and gotten it... because I mean... She's really nice...

I just kind of sat there with her... all sticky from gore... but it was kind of ok, because... It was her gore...Which didn't make it alright, since... it implied that she was all...bleeding and stuff and that was bad... but... It was like... less...horrible feeling or something than being covered in some other random gore from work... If that makes any sense...

Bells

I would have shaken my head, if it didn't involve scraping my face in the process. I was getting a bit dizzy . . . "No, you're . . . you're . . . doing far enough," I mumbled. I felt sticky from all the blood. Perhaps that would explain the dizziness.

T.Mor:

She sounded kind of... er... Like how people sound when they have issues with missing a lot of blood...

"Are... are you...ok...?" Stupid question. " I mean... uhm... you sound...kind of... I need more socks... You need more socks... uhm..." I told her... but I didn't want to just...leave her... to go find socks to fix this... but If I didn't... she'd be all... blood loss-ed... and... That couldn't happen....

I didn't want that to happen... I really...really didn't want that to happen...

Bells

I bit down on my lip, for some strange reason thinking that the little bit of extra pain might keep me awake. It . . . didn't help much. A spotting, black blur burned away at my vision. His voice broke through my distorted senses . . . more socks . . . I was bleeding too much. I clung to the sound of his voice. My own came out sounding like a little girl's. "T.Mor, I'm sorry . . . please, you're my friend. Don't leave 'ere alone."

Then my mind slipped again, and it actually felt nice, the numbness; I felt the hell of a pained look on my face loosen a bit. Maybe I would just die like that.

T.Mor:

...well... this was confusing...

On the one hand... leaving her here... to go get socks... to keep her from dying.. well... would be bad... like... right now, because... she just asked me not to leave... Because...really... bleeding out... by yourself... isn't pleasant... Not.. not that I know from... personal experience... but... I mean... I know from...er... impersonal experience... if.. if that makes sense...

But then... if I stayed... she'd be all... dead...

I don't like it when people die.

And I don't like it even more when people who I actually know...you know...personally... die.

Yeah...

But... I mean...

Agh.

whatdo...whatdowhatdowhatdo... Listen to her...or...actually help her?

"Bells... I... I'm sorry... but...er... I.. I... don't...want you...to be...all...dead...so.. uhm... I'll be...er...right back... ... ...just..er...uhm... stay here...and...er....don't... don't...die..." I gently pulled my way out from under her, and then ran like crap to... where socks were. Like... like how I run when I only have three minutes to get to work or else I'll be late...

If I got back and she was all...not alive...

Don't even wanna think about it.

Will not think about it.

No thinking...only running... nothinking...nothinking...nothinking...

Bells

Distantly, I felt him . . . leave me. I felt myself crumble a bit more. I was worthless, even to him . . . Then I forgot about him. There were no longer any knives, or scars, or Outlanders. Just numb, painless, empty blackness.

T.Mor:

I found a whole bag full of socks.

And...then...I was running again... Running all the way back to her...

"Bells... Bells...I'm... I found socks... I got them... I ...It's... you'll be ok... I think...probably..." She was right where I left her... which...really, I hadn't expected her to move much... but It felt kind of reassuring... You know... like... I dunno how to explain it...

But... then... She didn't move...so...er...

I went and sat back down right there, like... next to her...and... something..was...really not right.

"...I'm back... like...like...like.. like I said... Uhm...." I muttered shakily... this... this couldn't be right... She couldn't be... I mean... I had socks... I... It...

And yet... I'd seen dead bodies before... ... ...and... She kind of...

No.

I didn't want to think about it.

But... lying was bad...so...

No.

Can't say it.

I... It... .... ... ... ... ... I'd left...and this happened.

If I just...didn't exist... she wouldn't be... all... like how she is...

My head went to my knees and I felt tears running down my face... totally silent...Like how they always were...whenever...er...yeah...

I just didn't even want to move. I just...if I just stopped existing right here... nothing really could have been better....because... I hadn't listened...and now... now...she had died... there I said it.... all alone...and.... that... I ..., that... I....

... ... ... .. ... ... ... ... Stopping existing... That... that would... yeah...

Once...once I was able to remove my head from my knees without...I dunno... feeling like... how I do...

Skelet

I didn't miss her, much. Quite honestly, I'd nearly forgotten about her 'til I happened apon the bloody corpse. She'd been good . . . perfect. It'd been a good time. I'd never hear her sing again, or feel her skin, pale as death. Perfection broken to blood, wasted, but she'd been more trouble than she was worth.

I could always buy another. I had a lot to choose from.

With that, I almost turned around and left her to the rats. But then I realised that the block of black next to her was a figure, not a shadow. With a laugh, I whistled a greeting, walking up to him. 'ello, puppy. You lost? "And what's this I've got? See, I recently watched this one Outlander bastard die a bloody death and 'ave 'is disfigured corpse tossed into th' water . . ." I reached down and grabbed his chin, studying his face. ". . . and 'e looked just like you."

((...WHOAH o.o

That's all I gotta say, man... Just...AWESOME. In a somewhat chilling kind of way.

Felt that that needed to be said.))

T.Mor:

I was pulled out of my...er...well...being all... how I was and stuff... By that guy.

Yes... THAT guy. The guy who... who... ...you know... yeah... him.

I didn't entirely know what to do...Because.. part of me wanted to give him a piece of my mind and then shoot him in the foot... But then another part of me was informing me that I deserved every second of whatever he decided to throw at me.

But... gah.

"I... I don't like you..." I said. Which... ok, compared to other people's words...isn't anything to write home about, but... I mean... Getting that many words that made sense to happen that fast... and...like... not be... uhm... you know... kind of... yeah... is really difficult most times... But... This guy...

I mean... he... he uhm...

No. Cannot think about that. 'Specially if I want words to keep happening...kind of....fast...ish.

Skelet

What lovely banter. ". . . aye. You are 'im, a'right. You most certainly aren't one for words. Ironic, seeing as 'ow your talking t' my Dove 'ere lead t' 'er fate." I nudged the girl with my foot, frowning a tad. "Anything else you might want t' say b'fore I turn your words against you and simply, say, kill you? For old and new time's sake, really. Memories . . ." I had my knife twirling in my hand at this point, and it tumbled around my fingers until I had it planted once more on the bridge of his nose. "This is going t' blossom int' a deep, beautiful tradition, I can feel it."

T.Mor:

As...As if I needed reminded...about that...About...yeah... how that whole...Yeah...

No... I didn't need reminded. It was already like...sitting there...in my brain... and I mean... Yeah... I'd deal with that... on my own terms...I think...

I felt the knife against my nose again. And you know what...I lifted one hand... and pushed it back. Not far... about a half foot from my face...is all... but yeah...

"She... she didn't deserve that...and... and... you...should... I dunno... GTFO...and...and... GDIAF... Because... you're... like my boss... only...only.... It's not ok...because... you don't pay anyone...so...yeah." I said... uhm...well. Now I was...probably pretty well screwed...

Whatever... Not like I was planning on prolonging whatever happened if I somehow managed to get out of this...er...whole...talking thing...alive...so... no big deal...

Skelet

Alright then. I had no idea whatsoever what he had just said, except for 'she didn't deserve that'. "You're a sorry mess, laddie." I shook my head and studied his, and how it was covered in black. Then, looking down at the girl once more, I continued. My eyes ran down the elaborate scars. "Work of art, isn't it?" Using the knife, I tipped his face down so he could see, too. "And a shame, isn't it? She was such a pretty girl. Didn't deserve 'er fate. Tell me, did you like it when she kissed you? Couldn't imagine not. She was always one t' play around, adventure out t' find any other son of a bitch. Y' want t' know why I killed 'er?"

I patiently waited for him to answer.

T.Mor:

And... The knife was on my face again...

And... And... I was looking at her... only... I didn't want to really... I mean... I wanted to remember her how she was... you know... not covered in gore... So, I almost immediately snapped my eyes shut...as soon as..well... I realised erm...yeah...

I didn't really... you know...want to...answer his questions... either... but... I mean...if It would get me to not...er... have my face...all...er...chopped up...and stuff...

I mean... who was he to ask all these... personal questions? ...Ok... only one really personal one really, but... you know what I mean...

And...I really didn't...you know... want to er... uhm...comment on his...er... skills...at...er... violence...

I...really just...kind of wanted to shoot him in the foot.

And at the same time... I hated shooting people...

But he killed Bells...

But...really... if I hadn't talked to her after that one time...

"Because... because...I dunno... you... You... erm... You're... bad... and... and not nice...and... you... you never were nice...and she thought you were, but... you weren't and really... really, It's not nice to hit people with guns.... I mean... It's not. It's just... I mean... she she... after that... She didn't let me say bad things... because... I dunno... she..cared or something...and you, you just... it's..." I realised that I wasn't really ranting about anything on subject anymore, and promptly shut up. Who was I to tell him not to hit people with guns? ...I mean...was I trying to get myself killed?

...I'm not going to answer that one either... uhm...

Skelet

"I gave 'er those scars, because . . ." I began, ignoring his rant, twirling my knife away from his face just long enough to slide the blade up further. It didn't glint in a menacing way. No, this knife had been well worn long before it ever touched him. I made it work, pressing it into the remaining outline of an eye on his cheek until it pierced the skin.

". . . see. A'right. I'll explain it this way. There was once a friend o' mine, and unfortunately, 'e decided t' try t' steal from me. Naturally, I cut off 'is 'and, and th' pathetic lad fell t' pieces. Gave everything 'e'd taken back, ten fold . . . and naturally, I asked 'im if 'e wanted 'is 'and back." The 'eye' had been torn through once over, and I started tracing it again. " 'e said in 'orror that no, 'e didn't want it back . . . see, it wasn't a part o' 'im anymore. Only an ugly reminder of what was lost . . ."

I tipped his head down again, none too gently. "You tried t' take 'er, so I cut 'er away. She's worthless t' anyone now, just like you! But you'll still 'ave t' pay a certain fee. Now Outlander, you've got two options. A quick death, and I'll leave you and my Dove t' th' rats, per'aps th' dogs, if they're 'ungry. Slow death, and per'aps I'll give 'er a bit more respect. Your call."

T.Mor:

And... he was cutting me up again.

...Great. I stayed still...as...usual...Even though... having cuts reopened...stung like... stingy things...

And... he was talking about...dismemberment... which... I had been trained to be... kind of...against... I mean...anyone can cut something off...

Though...according to...well... Mr.Face kind of logic... he kind of made sense. Ish. I mean... part of the whole...hand...story... kind of made sense about getting back your hand for returning all the stolen stuff...plus interest...

I also...didn't really know what a rat was... uhm... but...er... He sounded kind of like he was suggesting cannibalism of some kind... maybe...or...something... and that just sounded unsanitary... I mean.... yeah...

Speaking of sanitary body disposal... I kind of have the whole Audian crematory system like...er... across the building from my job... I dunno why he was making me choose between body disposal methods when I had a perfectly good one available...

Especially when he was...er... also planning on killing me...which... I mean... I realise I deserve to die, because...of...yeah... and... I mean... I'm going to take care of that... but...He... doesn't deserve to kill me... I don't think. If... if that makes sense at all.

And... he definitely does not deserve to be in charge of Bells' body...

"...I... I realise that... that...'neither' is kind of...illegal... but... uhm... I'm going to..er... pick that one anyway... and...uhm...Take care of this... er... myself..." I told him... Not totally sure how that decision would go over... but... erm...

I really didn't quite understand why I was being so picky about this... I mean... Bells was already dead...and... I wasn't planning on hanging around long...so... But still... the idea of trusting this guy... to follow through.... on...er... things...

I wouldn't have been so concerned about honesty if he was Mr.Face. ...Wow that... that's a bit of a creepy thought...

Skelet

I chuckled, shaking my head. "A bit anxious t' take control o' things, hm? Too bad I'm th' one with th' knife. When you go t' 'ell, send Satin my greetings, a'right? Tell 'im t' stay away from my lass." And with that, I slit his throat. It was the usual deal; I let him slump over, clicking my knife down to its shortest setting, and wiped a bit of blood off on my shirt. It was another badge of honor, that blood. My eyes never left his reaction.

I have a theory. The last moments of a person's life are always their most revealing. I'd always give my victims a chance to die with honor, rather than fear in their expression . . . but most people I'd killed, frankly, were cowards. This lad, I was sure, would be the same. But perhaps he would surprise me.

T.Mor:

I didn't know who Satan was... But...considering that he was sort of...er...killing me...

Pop cultural terms were... the... least of my problems.

Of all the ways I know to kill someone... Throat slitting... Is not...as painful as some of the other ones. Although... I say that...and the other ones on my list are things like spine removal and live embalming...so... er...yeah...

So... as much as it was... kinda painful... It could have been...worse... I mean... I think I still made one of those 'what is this I don't even' faces... just out of...surprise...

On the one hand... This had saved me some dakka.

On the other hand... Me and Bells were going to be dinner for...er... something called a rat. Whatever that was... Which... didn't sound like a good...way to stop being a dead body...


Wait-- Had he just called Bells his? ...After... after he chopped her up like that... and hit her with a gun... No. No... I didn't think so...

"She's not...er... technically... yours..." I tried to state, although... that is really kind of hard when you don't have vocal chords or throat pieces connected up in the right place. Mostly instead of words that made sounds... It just came out as blood that had sound effects... which...is... kind of nasty... but...True none the less...

And then... nothing much mattered... because...well... everything was too red and...fuzzy... and It was like... the floor... but I didn't quite remember falling... And.. yeah... it was too

And then... that was... the end of that...

Skelet

She wasn't technically mine, aye? Well, didn't that statement burn a hole straight through my pride. Lovely. At least he'd had strong last words . . . somewhat. "Congratulations," I spat down at him, and pulled a cigarrette from my pocket. Smoke keeps spirits away. The flame of my lighter flicked onto the paper, and with that I turned and dissapeared, a delicate trail of the smoke fading behind me.

Bells

. . . I'd been . . . dead . . .

So . . . why was I walking? This sure didn't look like Hell. Unless the chatbox counted as Hell.

I wandered in, my movements slow, scared that if I stepped too hard the blank floor would shatter, and I would fall straight out of this second life and into a fiery underworld. This didn't happen . . . people don't come back to life. But I just had.

It wasn't a fresh new life, though . . . the gashes were still there. Not bleeding anymore . . . but I still had scars. Perhaps I was just a ghost, and not some victim of odd author magic. But . . . it sure felt like flesh to me . . .

T.Mor:

...Chatbox resurrection... One of those things you like for existing... because then you're not dead... Which...also meant Bells wasn't dead...which... was a good thing.

I looked around for her...because...well... She's Bells... and...Bells... Bells is nice. And... I mean... I had...left...uhm...when she didn't want me to, and I felt awful for it...but...I mean... I didn't want her all...dead and all...so...er...yeah...

And... there she was...Still all kind of sliced up...but... not bleeding out any more...which was...really good...

Wait...what was I suppoused to do now? Say hi? Just stand here? ...No then I'd look like a stalker... I wasn't a stalker... I stood there like a stalker.

"er..." I stated.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
LATER. MUCH LATER.

RG#7: I don't have to. I'm your superior. I sit at an expletiving DESK. Go haul the bodies out to the hall.
Bells: *turns around in an almost elegant looking way, and says smoothly* "You're a scrawny little man that doesn't know 'ow t' cuss right, let alone 'ave th' authority t' tell me what t' do. See you on payday." *turns to leave again*
RG#7 : *gets up from behind desk walks over and spins her around forcefully.* No. That's not how it works. You're coming downstairs with me, and I'm going to go tell Mr.Face about you. *commences with dragging her to cellblock two.*
Bells: o.o >:0 *as she's being dragged, struggles* "Let me /GO/." *throws a punch at his face*
RG#7: NO. *ducks and keeps on moving. He does this dragging people about frequently, apparently.*

Bells

I struggled against his grasp, a nice concoction of whistled curses whurring past my lips. He'd been serious. Well, I was already in deep shit. Not turning back now. "Peice o' shit--! Bastard--!" My whistling had somehow morphed into English as I dug my heels into the floor. I was this close to kicking him in the groin to make some miraculous escape, but then came a thought.

Shit. I had T.Mor to worry about. He wouldn't like me in trouble, would he? "What would it take t' forget this whole thing 'appened, love?"