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 Posted: Tue Oct 13, 2009 9:13 pm
Dale didn't have a reason for being out so late. She just felt like driving, so she took out one of her cars and just went. The car of choice that nit was the 1950 Jaguar, a sleek black thing... small, but stylish and oh-so-sexy. She had no curfew, no limits. No one was really sure how she got garage space at Crystal, but it must have taken many 'donations'.
Dale only planned on increasing her car collection, so soon she would take up even more space. It was worth it, just for nights like this. The moon was high, bright, and yellow in the black sky, stuck to it like a sticker is stuck on a child's school folder. She didn't put down the roof, but rolled down the windows, letting the man-made wind flow through her short hair. With one hand, she undid the top button of her white blouse, just so that the wind could rustle her collar and tickle her skin.
Some late-night station was playing on the radio, but Dale was hardly listening to the crooning voice. Her eyes, always, were on the stars.
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Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 12:09 am
Even had Dale's eyes been on the road, she never would have seen it coming.
There was a horrible, startlingly loud crunch as -- in the darkness -- something that briefly looked all-too-white and a collaboration of bones that shouldn't have mixed leapt, out of nowhere, on the hood of her car, and the skid on the roof heralded it having leapt there and off into space: it wasn't human. It couldn't have been animal. And her beautiful 50's Jag now had a distinct dent in the bonnet where the goddamned thing had leapt.
This meant war.
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Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 12:32 am
Her eyes widened; that had been no damn squirrel. It hadn't even been a deer! She could have understood that... not some weird Halloween monster that jumped on her car.
Her initial reaction was to duck, of course, as the lovely dent had hit awfully close to her head. Then, she slammed her high-heeled feet onto the brakes, her chin jolting forward and into the wheel with the sudden force. She rubbed where the leather-covered wheel had hit her, before glaring into the rear-view mirror. It was something bony, all right, and it was alive. Rumors entered her head, stories of horrible monsters chasing young women, who would sometimes come to her with tears streaking their face. At the time, she had thought that they were looking for any excuse to enter her house.
Now she saw that those girls weren't lying. Her pretty face contorted into a terrible mask of rage before she put her car into reverse and hit the gas once again, this time so hard that the tires shrieked in protest. Dents, marks, and scratches all over her beautiful car. She would take care of tat later, for now she decided to exact her own form of revenge.
By barreling the back-end of her Jaguar into the weird beast.
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Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 12:51 am
It hit. With another startlingly loud crunch Dale felt the car tip up and go over -- thank God for a strong engine -- whatever had originally made the dent; she reversed back into the road, and her headlights silhouetted a butt-ugly, badly-put-together monster-thing with far too many elbows and a flattened head with a kind of nozzle. It was bleeding green blood, its long arm dragging limp, but it was struggling to stand up in the wake of having just been run over.
But it was still moving, and it was in front of her. There was one way to take care of that.
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Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2009 10:53 am
"Does it hurt?" Dale sneered, her blue eyes glinting in the headlights' reflection. With no one around to view her, she didn't have to put on charming airs or wheedle her way to get what she wanted. There, literally, was no stops for her to brake at.
So, she laughed. It started out as her charismatic chuckle, then grew into a loud, roaring laugh from her belly, matching the noises of her engine.
"Let's paint my car red!" she said in a throaty voice.
Then she looked again.
"Sorry, I meant green," she shrugged before nudging her car forward to the creature. The jaguar nosed at it for just an instant, before she suddenly accelerated and sent the monster sliding forward. Then, she went in reverse again and stared at the smear of green.
"Encore..." she hissed. With a final slam of her heel, she sent the car squealing forward towards the doomed monster.
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2009 3:26 am
She hit it with terrifying force. The top half of the monster actually sheared off, spraying her windshield with sticky green blood -- it again bumped over her rooftop and landed somewhere far away as the Jaguar bumped and crunched over what was left of the lower half of the body.
The car skidded over the slippery blood and fishtailed: Dale brought it to a screaming stop, pulling it around in a 180-degree arc: it wasn't as though turning on a pin was difficult for her. And then, in front of her, haloed in her headlights, was the smoking corpse of something, dwindling --
And there was a man.
He was wearing a cape and a dark, charcoal-black suit, strangely military in bearing. And he was looking directly at her, his hair falling in rough purple dreadlocks around his face. Somehow looking at her filled even the unflappable Dale with -- something like dread -- and he reached his hand out, crooking one gloved finger at her.
It was compelling, nearly nauseatingly so. Come here.
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2009 7:00 pm
At first, Dale wanted to hit the gas. In fact, she almost did. Her heel hovered over the pedal, but it wouldn't go down any more. She wasn't being controlled, it wasn't that. She stared t the pedal, then at the man glaring down through her headlights.
"Damnit!" she hissed through clenched teeth. Still, her body obeyed him. She unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out into the green goop, slamming the door behind her and locking it. (Why did she bother? Was it just habit? The least of her worries t that time was her car being stolen. Would that freak suddenly get up and drive off?)
"Not with the way he's... dissolving..." she thought as she stepped on some of his shrinking flesh on the way to the reaper waiting for her.
Soon she was in front of him, and coolly crossed her arms-- even though her fingers (and knees) were shaking.
"Did that belong to you?" she tried to ask him in an intimidating voice, but it just came out like a canary's tweet.
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2009 9:28 pm
"Belonged," said the man. "Past tense."
He regarded her with eyes hidden behind smoked lenses, wearing a pair of sunglasses despite it being deep into the evening. There was a massive whip affixed to his hip: somehow the military outfit should have been a little ridiculous, but it was disquieting instead.
The green goop was sending up wisps of acrid smoke into the night air.
"You've got guts, you know that?" he said finally. "Either you're goddamned brave or you're goddamned stupid -- or both. So. What is it? Answer me."
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 1:58 pm
"Only idiots are sure that they aren't stupid," Dale snorted, but then she immediately backed down from her remark, "So I'm not sure. I didn't feel stupid when I was crushing that thing."
She clenched her fists.
"That ugly thing made me mad, and there was no one around to stop me... so I got my revenge on it. It couldn't stop me!" She looked like she was about to smile, but then she looked at those sunglasses and thought better of it. Though she was still standing tall, there was something decidedly off about this man. He wasn't a rogue LARPer running around... no, he was something sinister. Something that froze her core, and made the cold radiate outwards until even her toes were chilled.
"I would've said that it was bravery," she admitted, "Until I saw that monster's owner. Now I don't know which it was."
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 9:24 pm
"Hm!" was all the man said at first.
They were alone with the evening falling all around them. He was perfectly still and kept on looking at her, head cocked a little to one side, as though evaluating everything that made Dale, Dale. How tall she was. What she looked like. As though he were making measurements: body fat ratio, the length of her arms, the lankiness of her body, the fear coming off her.
"I'm here to bring the truth to Destiny City," he said. "I'm not going to ******** around offering you power or glory -- if you want power and glory, you're going to have to get off your a** and take them for yourself, and you'll be working under me. You want revenge? Take it. You want to get mad? Go ahead."
He straightened up. His posture was military-perfect. "I use people who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty," he said. "You get your hands dirty? Or do I have to god damned dirty them for you?"
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 10:57 pm
"Well," Dale seemed to ponder, though her eyes were still wavering at the man's tone of voice, "The fact that there would be opportunity to gain power and glory speaks for itself. I'm used to walking on stepping stones made out of others', if you'll excuse the poetry."
The gears were working. If this man indeed had something to lead to power and glory-- even if he wasn't going to give it to her-- Dale wanted it. Maybe someday she'd have enough power to make this fellow another step, but for now there was no way she could stand up to him in any sort of amount. Better to make those with strength allies (or bosses, in Dale's case) than enemies.
"Sure," she answered, "I'll work under you." She took off her driving gloves and pocketed them. She held them up, they were simple, no rings or fingernail polish... just young, thin hands. She smirked before putting them on her hips.
"I'd rather get my hands dirty myself, though, if it's all the same to you. So! You have my interest, what is this Truth of yours?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 17, 2009 12:47 am
"What is truth?"
The man put forth an outstretched hand. His fingers brushed down Dale's sternum, but it was an action divorced from any come-on or desire -- enough to make a woman nigh-on flinch, as there were some things hardwired about men and violence and chest-touching, but Dale wasn't the type to shudder. "What is truth," he repeated, and his fingers started sinking underneath her skin.
It was too late; she'd offered; and now it felt as though his hand was clutching around her heart. Tendrils of dark smoke were rising up from where his fingers met her skin, as though it burnt upon contact. "Truth is this," he said. "I make your ******** truth. The Negaverse is truth. Here's truth -- Earth was betrayed long ago by its oppressors, and the only truth is power. He who owns power is free. That's the ******** Truth. Humans let themselves be ground underfoot over and over and over -- do you want to be part of the scum on the god damned road, or do you want to try for something else?"
Her heart felt as though it was being jerked out of her chest.
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Posted: Sun Oct 18, 2009 11:48 am
"I--" she was choked by the burning deep within her. She felt like if she looked down she'd see her own seared flesh, but she knew better. She didn't look down. She didn't close her eyes, either. With wide eyes she just tried to look at the arm, the shoulder, and the figure of the man who was doing this to her.
"Power..." she choked, "I want to be..." She fell forward a moment as she felt something, something important being pulled out of her flesh.
"I want to be the one..." her eyes became half-lidded as the smoke rose and began to cloud her vision, "... The one who runs over the scum..."
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Posted: Sun Oct 18, 2009 9:48 pm
It happened so quickly that it was almost easy. Her heart felt as though it was burnt down to ashes, reborn: and there was a voice inside her as clear as a bell saying, slow and careful, I am Variscite. Not even a revelation as much as a bright, burning statement of fact, even as her skin now felt as though it was being ripped inside-out. Like a piece of paper touched to a candle. As he pulled his hand away, her senses were suddenly heightened to a dizzying amount, and she had changed: stumbling like a newborn in new, odd clothes, like a soldier with a bright sash.
"You'll get your chance," said the man. "I am General-King Charonite. Because there's not enough God to go around, I'll be your new God, and the Negaverse will be your holy book.
"Are you ready, Lieutenant?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2009 7:18 pm
She put her hand to her sternum, almost like one would nervously kiss a venomous snake. She looked down, balancing herself out in this new outfit... this new form.
She looked up at Charonite, looking far more like a confused child than she ever had before. The expression passed, though, and she gave a quick nod.
"Of course, General-King. I'm eager to get started."
She put her hands on her hips and her trademark smile fell back upon her lips.
"...Amen."
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