A Touch


shard_icon.gif stef_icon.gif

Scene Title A Touch
Synopsis Sometimes people just need a touch to get some help. And after White sinks a building, Shard may need a little bit more than that.
Date October 7, 2009

Anarchy Customs: Garage

This three story building is constructed from old, cracked concrete and cinder blocks, the naturally gray hue is long since caked with the common signs of neglect and vagrancy, filth and graffiti, common on the island. The graffiti here, however, seems notably fresh.

The entrances to the buildings are too wide, large bay garage doors. The words 'Anarchy Customs' are painted in chaotic letters on each. Just inside a large garage is home to various motorcycles and parts in different states of dismantling, repair, reconstruction, or destruction. The walls are cluttered with various tools, mobbed further with stolen street signs and more untamable, fresh graffiti. The smell of oil clings to the air as eagerly as the grease stains spattered on the concrete floor.

Across from the large, bay garage doors, a single black-iron, spiraling staircase is set beside the opposite wall, corking up to the floor overhead.

The whole municipal building, gone. How many people died tonight? And even though it looked like he died, White was probably still alive. Cardinal was right. Even though everything inside him wants to believe that Norman White got caught in that ferris wheel, he knows somewhere deep in his carnal sweet spot that White is still out there. And crazy as ever.

It's late, or early, when the dark garage is illuminated by a flurry of red sparks and a crackle-pop announces the man's arrival. Shard's feet hit the ground after arriving in teleportation, sweat drips from his brow. As soon as the rapper finds himself in the garage, he doesn't even look around. A fist is flung wildly at the nearest bike, before Vincent flings a boot at a toolbox and then altogether shoves it over. Sorry Devi. Anger swells in the man, but what's more behind that anger is a huge vast swarm of fear floating around his heart. He could have killed White, he had a clear opportunity. He could have ended it all…

What if this is all his fault?

His sweatshirt is torn as the man rips it off and throws it from him, until he collapses on the ground of the garage.

The garage isn't Stef's favorite hangout. But even upstairs where the Cheez-Its and the radio are, she heard the crackling and then the collapsing of something heavy. Perhaps by herself at the moment, she'd been complaining about not feeling too great, which might be why she's skipped out on some outtings lately. Visually she looks fine when she comes down the stairs, dressed in something appropriately (for her) revealing and fun.

A hint of a smile tugs on the corner of her mouth, "Did you pick up something new?" she asks, before making the rest of the way over. "Kinds sucks. I liked the flying thing. That was fucking awesome." Once she's close, she kneels down to rest her arms on her knees and look at him better. "Heard about the earthquake. You okay?"

"Got it from one of White's kids. Doesn't feel good. More I use it, the hotter I get like I'm a car overheatin' or something." He waves a dismissive hand as he pulls up his knees, his eyes going to a random location on the ground. "Don't much like it." He admits, one of the few times he actually has admitted verbally to even having an ability. "But I needed it at the time." King slowly tilts his head back, eyes rimmed red as he stares at the rafters of the garage.

"I could have stopped him. I knew something bad was going down. I could have zapped in, and zapped him a hundred feet above the ground, could have…" He lowers his head. "I could have stopped him. And I didn't." Anger rises up and a balled fist is slammed at his side against the ground.

"He made a ferris wheel fall. Almost crushed me and another guy. I zapped us out.. White was still there. He could have been killed. Should have been killed. But I know he wasn't. The zappin' kid could have woke up, or that superspeed girl." One fist is brought up and slammed against his own head roughly as he lets out a loud roar of a yell.

There's a lot of explaination going on, and Stef breaths in deeply, as if trying to gain some kind of benifit to his own fear. At first she has a surge of success across her face, likely at the admission of an ability at all. And then it's followed by a frustrated twitch at her mouth. "Well, if you think you should have killed him maybe you know you got to next time, right? Need me to rip his head off for you? Cause I certainly could give it a try," she says, before reaching out to him. Normally she would make no attempt at all to touch him, but he'd just said he didn't like the power, so it would seem she's taking that as an invite to grab his arm. "Stop hitting yourself and take it out on him."

Another fist swings up at his own, his hand looking quite beat up after all the things he's been punching lately. His chest heaves with the rapid breathing his teeth baring into almost a snarl. "Klling? Killing. My songs were full of killing. I talked about wiping out those…" The words used to come so casually. "Motha'fucka's…" The word sounds foreign to him, as if he hasn't said it for a long time and it feels strange. "Ripping away the chaff." He looks down at his fist. "I aint never killed nobody. I shot a man once. But I healed him. Been in plenty fights but I never killed anyone. And I don't want to neither." A big breath is taken as it seems like that anger might be swelling up again.

But when she touches his arm he stills, looking down at his skin. The first time in a very long time anyone has touched him when he wasn't trying to get a power. Goosebumps rise up from the touch. He hasn't allowed anyone to touch him in so long. His eyes stay glued on her hand for a moment.

"I've killed," Stef says quietly, as she keeps her eyes on his own. Her grip is strong and firm, but not crushing. It doesn't let go. "In Moab. There was this lady who ran down to the lower levels and tried to knife me with super speed. She'd already been taken down, but she wasn't dead and she was getting back up— so I shot her." There's a look in her eyes, and though she explained the fact she'd been in Moab during the escape fiasco, she never mentioned the killing that she'd done.

"I didn't want to kill her, so much as I was afraid of her killing me." The fear she still feels from those memories may not be painted on her face, but they're still present. "I've been responsible for people dying, too. Cause of what I used to be able to do. But whether you kill him or not… people are gonna die. And if he does that fucking earthquake thing in the middle of the city again? A hell of a lot of people will."

Fear. It's like he can smell it. Stef is given a look, a whole new kind of look. As if he hadn't seen her before, but now is very aware of her. His lips draw apart for a moment as he simply stares, brows furrowing ever so slightly. His eyes close for just a moment, and then his lips. He lowers his head for a moment. He can smell her fear and inexplicably, he likes it.

A breath is taken and he turns his head, his own fear still permeating through his own pores. If his own fear could give him strength.. Who knows what he would be capable of. He has nothing to say in return to her story for a moment, only taking deep breaths. Then finally he looks at her with a partially confused look. "Am I doing the right thing? Trying to give these people hope, so it's worth living in after Norman is gone? Or should I listen to Cardinal and become an assassin." He looks desperate, even on the verge of tears.

"Just tell me what to do."

"Do what will get the least amount of people killed," Stef says quietly, though that surge of fear seems to be growing inside her. Still breathing in through her nose, she doesn't seem to be getting the same high that she normally does. The situation could make it difficult. "Listen…" she shifts so she can get in closer to him, lifting her other hand up to his face as she leans in closer to him. The scent becomes stronger, due to proximity as well.

"I make bad decisions, I can't tell you what will be the absolute best decision. But White did that on purpose, didn't he? I do think giving people hope is a good thing, that's why I've been at your fucking side the whole time and not siding with the one who doesn't give a shit who ends up dying… Cause really, with the kind of fear he makes people feel, it probably would've made me feel awesome to have sided with him. I can kinda see why Knox did, even if I want punch him in the nose for being a moron." As she leans in closer, she presses her forehead against his own, letting her eyes close.

"Thing is— you can't give people hope if they're not alive to have it."

This is the closest he's allowed anyone for.. Over a year. The fear feels good. The touch feels good. His eyes drift close for a moment, her fear and her scent being the only thing he breathes, her voice being the only thing he hears. "I… I feel what you're sayin." Comes the ex-hardcore rappers softly spoken words. His head connects against hers gently, as he breathes in deeply. A moment of silence passes.

She's half his age. He's emotional, he just inherited a new power that gives him.. strange feelings, and he's still shaken up by the event. He's not in a logical mind. He should just pull back, go upstairs and cool out by himself. If he stays down here he might do something he regrets. Right. Vincent, go upstairs take a cold shower, think logically about this—

His lips part as he leans forward to kiss her deeply.

Half his age, a replicant with a very forward and aggressive nature, and almost as soon as their lips touch, Stef is forced to breathe in through her nose. This pulls all the adrenaline into her body, running up her arms and into her chest. Her skin feels warmer, her heart beats faster, and she holds on even tighter than she had before.

There might even be bruises. It's the knowledge that she could leave more than bruises that holds her back. It won't stop immediately, in fact deepening for a time, before she pulls back to breathe through her mouth, still close enough he can feel her breath.

"Fuck. I'd been hoping you'd do that eventually."

His eyes flick up to hers as she pulls back, breathing heavily. He can't pause too long, can't pull back for more than a moment, if he does he'll start thinking and this will all be over. But with her breath splashing against his lips, her taste still in his mouth, her grip pressing tightly against his arms. It's just enough to keep him not thinking. He goes into a crouch while his arms swing around her. Hands slipping around her rear he goes to stand swiftly, bringing her up with him.

A moment is given at just how easily she is lifted. Not that she would normally be a heavy load at all, but it's like she's a feather with this strength. With her fear. His hands flex for a moment as his lips close in again to continue to kiss her. Staggering steps take them over to the mechanic's counter, where she is hastily set down.

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