Famous Last Words: WHAT

Victor sighed when Hiro left. The room was dull. Bare. Cheap, like a motel, but internal, like a hotel. Heh. It really was pretty cheap. At least he was in a kind of office. Well, presumably, it had been an office. The cheap, artificial wood paneling looked old, little bubbles of yellow festering against the material’s plastic, brown skin. He was cuffed by the ankles to some old, brown metal folding chair, and by the wrists to a table that must have been bolted to the floor decades before. Not that cuffs mattered to Victor, but, hey. This new development was interesting. Why leave now?

The room smelled slightly musty.

Someone opened the door.

“Just so you know, when we’re done talking to you, you’re going to watch us walk out of here, almost as if nothing had gone wrong.”

Then she walked in, and behind his glasses, Victor raised an eyebrow. In his ridiculous disguise, not to mention the blue paint that was absolutely everywhere—and at this, Victor mentally cursed the shinigami who’d startled him earlier, making him forget about the paint bomb—it made sense that she might not recognize him. As a shapeshifter, he made his living being unrecognizable. But some people had been through things together, the kind of things nobody ever talked about after they’d been through them, and at the possibility of lost camaraderie, Victor found himself feeling slightly hurt.

I don’t have much time, she’d said, as if her time really mattered. Well, too bad for her, Victor thought, because I’ve got all the time in the world. But what to say? Just open his mouth and say “hey, remember me?” Nah. Too easy. No, it’s gotta be a whopper of a question, doesn’t it? Yeah.

“They must have been hopping mad at you. The guys who sent you to us last time. Did you ever catch The Driver?”

Of course Victor already knew the answer. No one had caught The Driver. No one was even sure what it was. It came, it protected the ones who needed it, and it left. He’d heard stories, rumors, half-whispers in the night clubs and meeting places. Knew it was still out there, still meting out its strange, alien sense of justice.

To Victor’s knowledge, only four living—well, shinigami weren’t living, but whatever—people knew anything concrete about The Driver’s existence, aside from those she’d doubtless told after they’d parted ways.

Everyone else who’d encountered The Driver was dead. Some more so than others.

“You know what? Never mind. We’d all agreed We’d Never Speak Of It Again. For that matter, I was pretty sure we also agreed Never To See Each Other Again, but, well, hey. It must be fate, I guess. You remember me, right, Kiriko?”

He shifted in his chair, leaning in, with a grin on his face, and shook the glasses off his face. “It’s me. Vic. How ya doin?”
 

-----

So, right, like I told the Hiro guy, I called a friend. This friend told me about some friends who might be fit for the job. Great. Awesome. I love meeting people, as I’m sure you already know. So we go to the costume shop. It’s this little shop run by an Italian guy—no, I don’t have the number, sorry—next to The Five Elephants. Yeah, yeah, I know. We started out there, went all over town, got all the things we needed, and now we’re literally just across the street from where we started. But so what?

Anywho, it looks like it’s going to rain, but noooot quite yet. So we cross the street—yeah, of course we look both ways. We’re not dumb—we cross the street and go looking for a good costume. I remember it like it was earlier tonight, because it was. Neon lights, burning into our eyelids, flickering street lights, and the proprietor, just about ready to flip the “Open” sign around to “Closed,” but don’t you worry, I got there first. He jammed my hand in the door, but was all like “oh, Victor, I totally didn’t see you there, and did not in any way mean to slam your hand in the door.”

I’m a good customer, so obviously I forgave him. No big. Hey, man, here’s a wad of cash, can you hook us up with some disguises? I’m thinking something classy, something y’know, that says “hey, screw the man,” but with class, right? Like some, I don’t know, theatre mask, or whatever. So I asked Giuseppe—that’s his name, by the way—what he’d recommend, and he was all “well, the Guy Fawkes masks are in right now, but you don’t want that, do you?” And I was all “well, yeah, I kinda do, I mean, they are pretty classy,” but he started insisting that no, what we really wanted were beaglepussies.

I swear they were Sekai’s idea.

Personally, I think he wanted to get rid of his stock, but, hey, who am I to judge? He’s a good salesman, and by the end of it, everyone else—totally lacking in class or taste, I might add—was clamoring for the fucking things. So I threw my hands up in the air, gave the guy his money, and then asked what else he could supply us with?

He liked the sound of that.

If you’ve never been to a costume shop, you should go. They’re amazing. You’ve got all these mannequins everywhere, with disguises on, right? Giuseppe has an entire wall dedicated purely to celebrities. And the thing is, he tailors them himself. Yeah. This isn’t just your average costume shop, it’s a specialty store. Best of the best, crème de la crème. He’s got a thing for groups, especially, so there’s like this full Beatles ensemble thing going on part way along the wall, right next to a set of, those those those those those… uh, what do you calls. You know, the guys who press the button on their outfit and become Japanese super heroes with the giant robots. He had like five full sets, all from different eras, and that’s not all. Jackson Five? You betcha. The Trammps? Of course. Marilyn Monroe through the ages? Definitely.

…and then… and then the Blues Brothers. I’d gesture to myself, but, well, y’know, handcuffs. Because I’m wearing that right now. Because we were all like YES except for whatshisface, uh, uh, y’know, the… yeah. Kraus. The guy with the name that reminds me of fermented cabbage. Kraus. He was all like “noooo, we need to be superheroeeees,” but screw that noise, y’know? We won him over after Aisha—she’s adorable, by the way—put on her beaglepussy and Maya plopped a hat on her head. It was like “yeah, we defs doing this now, because that is way too adorable for us not to go along with.”

So, costumes in hand, and money having exchanged hands, Guiuseppe rushed us off, and now we’re all standing in the rain, trying to figure out what to do. The ones who’d instigated this were all long gone by now, so Maya and me were the only ones who’d actually been to The Five Elephants, so we, well, crossed the street—once again looking both ways, because we are adults who know proper street-crossing safety—stepped inside and ordered some delicious, delicious burgers.

Oh lawd, dem burgers.

You would not believe how good they are.

Actually, you should probably send someone for a half-dozen bags right now. Go with the Hawaiian Avocado. You won’t regret it, seriously. Their curly pepper cheese maple bacon fries? Well, okay, I’ve had better, from Freddy Friday’s Famous Fry Funtimes, not gonna lie, though Sekai really seemed to dig them. I can’t blame her. They were okay. But for me, man, let me tell you, it’s all about the three juicy meat patties, the Hawaiian bun, that slice of juicy, barbecued pineapple, and, hey, let’s not forget the avocado.

Oh lawd. You just… You don’t. You can’t. Seriously, send someone to go get them now. Oh man, I’m salivating everywhere. Sorry.

Anyways, we get to talking. Cool. We’ve got the costumes. We’ve got the gear. People are looking at us funny, and, to be honest, if I had a camera on me, I’d probably snap a few pictures. Maya gets some cheese on her little fairy wings, and we have to get her some napkins before she freaks out. It was great, even if it was kinda tense there for a few moments, not going to lie.

Oh, right, I forgot to mention. Let me back up a bit. So we’re in the store, and we’re heading out, and she just stops. I walk right into her. Bounce back like a board. She’s, um, well, strong. As I’m sure you’ll find out later. Anyways, I’m picking myself up off the floor, and she walks over to this display case with a fairy costume, and she’s like “I need this. Vic, I need this.” And, look, let’s be honest, the woman is not right in the head, but not in the kind of way that demands patronization—no, no, she’s the kind of person you listen to. I think that’s why she was picked for the job.

Actually, disregard that last sentence. Just, like, wipe it from your mind. I never said it. Never happened. Nothing of the sort came out of my mouth or entered your ears.

It’s a fairy costume. Wand, wings, everything. Just, like, straight-up fairy costume. Magical tooth fairy type stuff. You know what I mean. I don’t know why she wants it so bad, but she does, and, hey, I’m not going to argue with the kind of person who has been known to smash my head through a wall on more than one occasion. Giuseppe doesn’t really seem to want to let it go, but a thousand bucks and Maya glaring at him seals the deal.

So, yes, back in The Five Elephants, and it’s the six of us, that’s Me, Maya, Kraus, Aisha, Sekai, and my evil double Reggie—did I mention him? No? He gets important later—we, well, we suddenly realize, much to our chagrin, that we have absolutely no way, whatsoever, of entering Soul Society to do what we’re planning to do.

That’s when a certain someone, and I’m not going to name names, but she’s an absolutely terrifying human being, has a great idea.

We’re going to go kidnap an arrancar.

1753/35/35

Kiriko listened quietly, her first instinctual desire was to be silent and let the man talk as much as he wanted. After all, people who talked always slipped up. But... This guy, he wasn't making any mistakes in his story because he was just damn talking. Not just any talking either, this was plain out rambling! Did he not realize what situation he was in right now? Did he not realize who she was? That was when the name sunk in, at first she hadn't understood his reference, had put that time so far behind her that it was only remembered in nightmares. But then, suddenly, Kiriko let that name sink in, and she realized. Vic. As in Victor. As in... The Victor from That One Time That They'd All Sworn Not To Talk About Ever Again. Soul King Almighty this was not her day!

Her hand cramped as she clenched it tightly beneath the table, trying to ward of her desire to massage her temples as the headache from before started on anew. Taking slow soft breaths she listened and wrote down notes, carefully documenting what was being said. Even the obnoxious parts, because this all needed to be compared to the other perpetrator's stories. She tried not to imagine why it was Victor of all people here, but she hadn't gotten to know him real well before and yet this just seemed fitting. She imagined stabbing her pencil through his eye socket, but refrained. Just barely. As the garbage that flowed from his mouth went on and on and on and on.

Every time she thought he was going to stop, to pause, to break a sentence, he just kept going. She interrupted only a few times, to clarify. Was that after you got the disguises? What gear was that again? Giuseppe with a u? She really wanted to know what the hell Guy Fawkes masks were since that seemed to be coming up a lot, but left it alone as the pop culture references rained down on her unbelieving ears. She recognized them only for their strange wording as symbols of the human world, and in doing so felt doubly disgusted by this horrible place.

The information about the girl with the... fairy? Wings caught her attention right away, though Kiriko was good at concealing such things and merely continued to write down names as they came up. Maya? A superhuman of some sort if she could send people through walls. Was that... the same Maya from before? Dear Lord she hoped not... But, chosen for the job? Didn't that mean someone had hired them? Someone like Mayumi? She tucked away that tidbit of information for later and nodded as Victor kept on at it.

Kiriko waited a few seconds as the silence stretched, almost not believing that there really was a blessed pause in the conversation. Or really monologue. She finished off her sentence on the bland yellow lined paper someone had given her earlier and held the pencil up between her forefinger and middle finger, “Wait, back up Victor-san. Tell me about the people with you, what are their capabilities? And don't tell me they're just good at dress up, if you kidnapped an Arrancar some of you ought to have something spiritual about you.” She tried not to sound unimpressed, but it was hard. This was tedious, trying to be the nice girl. It would be so much swifter if she just... just... better not to get too tempted. Yeah, stop thinking about that before the pencil in her hand really did go somewhere it shouldn't without Kohara being present.

“Then you can continue with the story.”

WC: 613 | GP: 12 | Total GP: 22

-----

Kiriko tapped her pencil against the notebook. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. She tried to go slow, to not overpace her fingers, but the building wave of irritation was almost too much to suppress. Tap. Tap. Tap. Deep breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, right? She took careful notes on people's powers, staring in a blank and unimpressed manner as Victor tried to joke around unsuccessfully. Really when was he going to realize that Kiriko didn't laugh at jokes, even if they were good ones. She tried to pin him to the chair with her eyes, tried to force him to sit still and actually damned tell her something straight up, but her eyes seemed ineffective today as the human just kept talking.
 
And talking. And telling her things she wanted to know but in such a roundabout manner that she wanted to clock him in the face so many times her pencil had nearly snapped in her iron-clad grip. Okay, okay. Don't let him mess with you, this was all just a big game to Victor. Except be was talking so sincerely. That was what got to her. Kiriko was good at reading faces, probably the best person here at least, and she could see the emotions on this guy's face as clear as daylight. He was really telling her this story seriously, as if he believed he was doing her a favor and cooperating. As if he wasn't trying to just fuck with her. And that... that gave her pause, because what could you do with someone who actually thought they were helping you out and being a good witness?
 
Her desire to damage him was slowly leaking out of her sides as she realized that Victor wasn't really lying. Well, he did seem to be elaborating more than usual, but the general details, she couldn't pick up on any twitches or micro expressions on his face. And she had trained damn hard to pick up on those things, even in a setting like this. And it was psyching her out, just a little bit, that Mayumi was behind these stupid kids and they were all just getting in the way of her investigation and damn it why couldn't that bitch just show her face like a normal person instead of playing these idiotic games with Kiriko!

Nodding to the story, the kind of ludicrious telling that it almost had to be true, Kiriko jotted down more notes as she posed a softly spoken interruption, “Huh, I see, that's kind of amazing. Did you manage to catch this woman's name by chance?” As she was waiting for a response there was a knock on the door, something she ignored as Victor was about to speak up, but whoever it was obviously had no manners as they opened it anyway. Kiriko glared intently at the intruder, none other than Hiro of course, but she took his report nonetheless and shooed him out without a word of thanks. He had interrupted her after all, that wasn't something you thanked people for.
 
Kiriko scanned the report quickly. It was short, to the point, concise even, and – “What?!? What the hell did you guys do with the underwear from the Shinigami Women's Association? Wait, better question, how the hell did you guys even find that place?” She set the papers down and her face began to twitch as she glared rather fiercely. She was so glad, soooo glad, that when the Women's Association had come into being she had refused to leave her clothes there for those times when they went to the hot springs. So glad, but also angry, because... this was an affront she couldn't just let pass without remark. What if she had left her clothes there? Shuddering on the inside Kiriko went back to glaring at the man who seemed so happy to tell her details. Did she even want to know this time?
 
WC: 654 | GP: 13 | Total GP: 35

-----

-----

She listened quietly, her pencil scraping against the notebook in a furious scribble as Kiriko endeavored to document each word spoken. Her hand was already cramping, and yet the story went on. Somehow, amazingly, as she stared at Victor, she realized there was a total lack of telling signs in his face. This story, at least, was not a lie. Did that mean she was making progress? Or, more likely, did it mean he just didn't have to lie about stupid things that didn't really matter? Damn it! Damn him for making a fool out of her!

She had tried the nice tactic. The patient sympathizer, the compassionate listener. Those were all valid tactics in the court of interrogation. But they were not working. And Kiriko had never had the false inclination to cling to failed plans. It was time to drop this charade and get what she needed, by whatever means possible. Hell, it wasn't as if there was any oversight committee that was going to check in and see how she handled the humans! Gilgamesh had already proven that he didn't care what she did here in the human world, and she had done a lot worse then take the kid gloves off.

Aneue hissed, an icy rattle that filled Kiriko's head with the buzz of blood lust. That blade, it was always so hasty, but sometimes... sometimes Aneue was right about everything. Hand dropping to carress the sword, she pushed out of her chair just in time for the door to crash inward as Hiro exclaimed wildly. One sharp gaze in his direction and the man was stumbling over his words. She assessed, and then she realized the implications. Hiro wandered off, she didn't really care anymore, her attention was pinned to the man across the table. The yells and shouting from outside the room felt like far away echoes as she lunged around the flimsy barrier and grabbed for Victor.

“Kill him already, wipe that haughty smirk off his face!” Aneue crowed in her head, the blade calling for death in the most painful of manners. “He's just like them, just like her, affiliation with that bitch makes him her accomplice!” The sword crooned in her ear, honey sweet and sharp like tacks. She felt a shiver of anticipation race up her spine, a flush of adrenaline and pleasure. There was no one here to stop her, and Victor? Well, he had signed his fate the moment he tried to play around with Kiriko.

Her body slammed into his with full force as Kiriko reached to grab the scruff of his shirt and slam him into the nearest wall, toppling the chair and causing a faint dusting of plaster to drift from the ceiling. Kiriko's free hand drew her Zanpakutou, the dark misty blade giving off a palpable chill as she arced it up towards his throat. Pressing the tip nastily, jabbing it into his adam's apple, she leaned forward and crooned a soft dirge in his ear, “Victor-san, I am tired now. We wouldn't want me to... slip, now would we? Perhaps you should speed up your tale, and explain exactly what your group has to do with Tanaka Mayumi!” she spat the name like the worst of acids, her eyes glittering with deranged anger as she felt the body heat from her target sap through her hands. They had been at that party, the connection was too obvious to be coincidence. She wanted him to balk, to give up pretty little lies once more, just give her a reason to start cutting into that sneering face. If she couldn't have Tanaka, she would take her pick of these idiots. Make them all pay for even thinking about allying themselves with such a horrid woman.

WC: 630 | GP: 12 | Total GP: 47

Kiriko felt her fingers pressed tight against the fabric of his suit, the smooth material was made from something altogether human. A synthetic. This was why she hated the human world so much, always dabbling in things that didn't need to be messed with. Who had ever thought of making clothes from plastics? It rattled her brain, and she gripped him all the tighter just because it was his fault this whole thing was happening today. No... she realized with a grimace, not Victor's fault, but Tanaka's. That bitch had the gall to ignore her when she'd been around and now she was sending her little monkeys to ruin Kiriko's record of flawless interrogations? Seriously?

She realized a moment later that she had been staring off into the distance and grinding her teeth audibly, and that was when she eased up on Victor's collar, letting her sword tip drop a few centimeters so he could talk without being jabbed. She didn't want to accidentally kill him, not like those other people, Kiriko had decided after that fiasco that she was going to try harder to be in control. Just because Aneue liked drinking blood didn't mean she had to do these things unintentionally, right? It was better to only do them when you actually wanted to, and that meant trying not to strangle Victor while she thought about her real foe, Tanaka.

He spoke up with the tone of a beaten dog, and she caught in his eyes the reality. A shapeshifter could change their body, even their face, and his act was good. Real good. She wasn't able to clearly discern his emotions just by watching his body language, but it was those eyes that gave her conflicting stories. You could never really control micro expressions, no one could, and Kiriko was the only person she'd ever met who could pick up on that kind of thing. Needless to say Victor's face was saying something totally different from his words, and she couldn't figure out why.

You had to know your opponent to really interrogate them. That was the trick. You had to know more about their motives then they did, or understand what they had done and play the full trick on them. This... what was happening today... it was a colossal failure of an interrogation because the people who had captured Victor and his friends didn't know a thing about their targets. They had given her nothing to work with, and it was her own damn fault for not picking up on more as the interrogation went on. So while she tried to figure out why Victor would lie about his relationship with Tanaka, or what even amongst those sentences had been the lie, she pulled back silently. Her hands smoothing the fabric of his coat as she sheathed the sword at her side.

“Fine, Hiro-san, take us to see his friend,” she waved one hand magnanimously, as if she expected Hiro to react like a vassal to his King. Stepping back from Victor she felt the whirring of curiosity inside her chest, something faint but slowly growing. What was going on here? And if she was smart, would she be able to get to the bottom of it? It was time to see Victor out of his element, with his own friend, and assess what kind of person he really was away from the interrogation table.

Hiro nodded rapidly, wetting his lips as he jumped towards the door with the eagerness of a family pet. “Yes, yes, of course! Please, she's right this way.” The door snapped open revealing a dingy hallway and the face of that one girl with the fairy wings. Kiriko studied her closely in that unprotected second, staring deep into that face, but all she saw was frantic worry, and a pain that had nothing to do with Kiriko. She made space for Victor to get past her, out the door first, and prepared to watch whatever scene the two were about to make.

WC: 672 | GP: 13 | Total GP: 60

"You ever had this stuff?"

She's sitting down, now. In the right room. Shaking a bottle of barely green mostly see-through liquid at the woman who had what she'd never have again. She wanted to reach over across that table, to rip apart or magic away the flimsy metal things that bound her, and take that sword away.

Because if she could never get that part of her back, at least someone else would know what it's like. At least someone--someone who understood--could keep her sane (a lost cause) but she wouldn't. She never would. Because then someone else would know what it's like and she'd never hurt someone this way. Not even if they... if they... Hell, what was worse than this?

"I love it. It reminds me of something we used to have in the S--in Saskatchewan. It was like this, y'know? But different. You could see right through it."

She shoved another across the table--Sodaman had long since collapsed, but there was a pile of him close enough to her chair that she could bend and reach--but it slid off the other side, bounced against the floor. The woman just watched.

"Really? You could at least taste it. It won't poison you. It's just, one of those few things that I've still got. A little bit of home, even if it's wrong."

A pause as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, as she rubbed her tired eyes.

"Water, that's what they called it."

She heard the noises of the floors creak, the walls sway as night and wind and age made a tiny symphony. There were voices, raised and quiet, but the woman never spoke.

"Was that good enough, then? Do you want more from me? My work history? My bra size?"

Part of her wanted to scream and part of her didn't care.

Part of her knew that no matter what happened she'd forget this tomorrow.

Most of her was tired.

She lay her head on the table, on a cushion made from her two soft, perfect, unmarred arms--not even a scratch--and moaned; not quite wanting to close her eyes, not here, not now.

"What do you want?"

She wanted to be gone. She wanted to forget. She wanted to be feeling something instead of stuck here in this drab and dreary room while a boring woman said nothing, talked about nothing, gave no expression away. It was like her life had run out of film, like the mad kaleidoscopic rush her life had been had just run dry and left behind behind a blank and barely-lit white screen.

She didn't care any more about these goals, all the big plans Victor whispered into her ear in the cold nights--though she would, the second she saw him again. She wanted simple things because she couldn't have the ones that mattered, because Hell without a hairbrush is just that much more intolerable.

She's being selfish, and that's no great shock; there's an element of it in all of us.

But most have a tendency to play it down.
 
Words: 511
GP: 10

Kiriko followed, her footsteps dogged even as she tried to ignore the chaos around her. Whatever semblance of a plan she had come into this building with was torn to shreds by the unorthodox prisoners. She wanted to stab someone, and twist. Aneue giggled at the thought, preening over the way her silvered blade looked coated in blood and intestines. But no... No, she was calm now, right? Calm. Something about control, and precision. Except Kiriko had lost those things a few minutes ago, when she'd started following the fairy girl around like a servant. She kept trying to get the girl to pause, to sit, to stop somewhere so she could continue this interrogation. But somehow Maya slid and danced and stumbled around Kiriko's attempts and they ended up gallivanting all around the hotel before the girl dropped into a chair back in Kiriko's original room. It felt comforting to be in similar surroundings again, even though her eyes continually skidded towards the wall where she had almost made a mistake. Almost.

Maya was a freak. A broken bottle trying to keep the water in. And she had no time for incompetence or liars or people who tried so hard to fake things until they were real. It was all there, creeping under that girl's skin, in the brightness of her smiles, in the burning of her eyes. She had gone so far past normal, past sentience. This was a hurting lump of flesh, and somehow Kiriko didn't much care so long as she got her answers. It was just a human after all. She wanted to strangle the truth from her lips, cord her hands around the girl's throat until blood and words burbled up instead of all this filth.

Liars, even those who believed their fairy tales, were so tedious. This entire fiasco was going to go down in history as the worst interrogation ever. Kiriko almost didn't care anymore. She had several thoughts laying in wait, contingency plans, ideas for collapse. What really mattered though, what burned in her throat, was what Victor had said to her. Maya. And Mayumi. Somehow it all came down to this nutcase. The secrets of that bitch.

Kiriko swept her arm across the table with a violent snap, sending the bottle of liquid crashing towards the wall with all the casual terror of a bully. Leaning in, she glared, ignoring the trembling nature of her target. “Look, stop playing games. I'm not here to play, and you know that. I'm also not an idiot. I can see right through you, you and your stupid attempts at fooling me. Well guess what, you're not fooling me, and you're certainly not fooling yourself. So buck up and face the truth for once. If I don't get a favorable answer from your lot, I'll just have to order your executions to clean this whole mess up. I think you'd rather dance away unharmed, don't you? It's simple, just fess up and give me what I want. I don't have to hurt you, or your friends, but I'll enjoy it if you give me the chance. Do you understand?” She slid her hand down to her Zanpakutou, letting an inch of the blade clear the sheath as her fingers caressed Maya's face.

Scowling she released the girl's chin and turned to face the wall before spinning back around. “First question. Where is Mayumi?”

WC: 569 | GP: 11 | Total GP: 71

"You say one thing and then you mean another."

She was still, now. There were no affected expressions, no frantic twitching movements. Whatever frenetic energy had powered her scant minutes before had faded away. Part of her tried to smile--wanted nothing more than to turn around all eager, popping bubblegum she didn't have in the woman's face as part of some portrayal or other, maintaining just that air of insouciant glee.

It was such an effort just to hold her head up.

"You say you know everything and you know nothing. You say you've pierced the game and yet you've missed the point. You don't want to know the truths I know. You can't face--"

Her face fell slowly slack, as if even the little bit of energy she needed to muster up her anger had been leeched away. A light had gone off on the inside.

"She's gone." Her voice, when it came, was nearly flat. "She's been dead for nearly a hundred years." She felt she ought to feel something when she said that, some denial or lingering pain, but it was just truth. "You're chasing a ghost. Something twisted, left behind and full of hate and not real at all."

"Not what you want to hear, is it?" Understanding crept into her voice. "You want there to be some big boogeyman out there, to codify all of this, to fit it into your little world... Life's not that neat, y'know?" Like she was apologizing for a rainy day. "But that's not all of it. You... you hate her, don't you?" She exploded backwards in laughter, rocking in her chair. "I don't even know you!"

But the laughter only lasted so long, because Kiriko was right. This wasn't a game. It had never been a game, because games didn't matter and everything about this, every intricate step, mattered more than anything she'd ever done. She didn't even care why. Vic had explained it to her so many times that she couldn't ask him again what it was all for; he'd look at her that way, with barely-hidden disappointment, and she'd want to fall apart.

"Did you see her today? At the ball? Is that what this is about? Well... I'm not going to tell you. You don't get to--I wasn't there. It was... her. Mayumi. Why don't you ask her? Why don't you find her and bring her back? Why didn't any of you..." She took a deep breath and stopped, looked away for a time and looked back, her face suddenly looking small.

"I don't think I was supposed to tell you that. I'm sorry, I've been bad, but I just want to go home it hurts so much sometimes and I just want to go..."

This was all too much. She wasn't used to mattering. She was used to laughing and walking away and ignoring the screams, dancing glitter-bright from one atrocity to the next act of kindness and never remembering, never having consequences, never taking stock because it hurt. Letting people down hurt. It was pain, she'd opened up to pain beyond the kind she always felt, and she couldn't dance or laugh or fuck it away. That was life.

And Mayumi Tanaka, Maya Tanner, a freak by any other name, very much did not want to be alive.

"Do you think I'm afraid of death? Do you really? After all this time? I'm not saying another god damn word to you because anything you do to me can only make it better, because no matter what you do, you'll have to take me h--"
 
Words: 600
GP: 12 (22)