43. Stuck underneath a pile of knocked-over furniture in yours’ house
Her cheeks flushed and she avoided making eye contact as a certain older friend wandered inside the apartment to catch Heather on her back with a couple of chairs and a ottoman toppled over on top of her. She tried to rearrange while cleaning and things sort of went awry. Now she’s lying on the cold, hard ground, and embarrassed as all heck.
“Well I bet you’re wondering how I could manage to bury myself under a pile of furniture while cleaning. Well let me tell you it wasn’t easy. It takes exactly my sort of skill to stack furniture in just such a way that it would come right down on me.”
She turned her head slightly to try and get a look Rhys to see just how much fun he was having with this.
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❝ You’re reaaaaaaaaally getting on my nerves now, Rhys~!!! ❞
Wearing a smile too cheerful to truly represent the evil within, Nicolette stares down at the man below her. Sitting on his ass, appearing shocked while blood poured from his nose, Rhys looked at his absolute best like this. It came as no surprise to her that someone so pathetic could look so good sitting in the dirt. This was where Rhys belonged. Did he really think he deserved to stand beside her — as if he were better? As if he was worth more? Hah! What a fucking joke! It seemed like Rhys needed a good wake up call, and who better than to provide it than Nicolette?
He was worth nothing.
❝ You really don’t understand the position you’re in, do you Rhys? ❞
Her fists ache from the force with which she’d used to hit him, but fingers still tremble, yearning for the chance to strike again. With every blow, his cries would fill the air — each beg, protest and scream resonating like music to her ears. And as she thinks of the way his flesh would bruise in such a beautiful array of colors, splitting apart to dye her fists red, a pleasant shiver works its way up her spine. She imagines the noise his bones would make as they snapped and the sound of his guttural sobbing when the pain no longer allowed him to speak. Releasing a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, her gaze locks with his and she laughs, bringing bloodied fingers towards her lips.
❝ Oh? Looking defiant now, are we? You’re not very smart, Rhys. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see? You’re not needed. Not by Jack, not by anyone!! ❞
Within seconds, delicate features twist horribly, a carefree smile quickly replacing with a condescending sneer. As Rhys was easily yanked to his knees by a pair of scarred hands, Nicolette bends forward, face mere inches from his. She can tell by his rapid breathing that he’s nervous, sighing as every sharp inhale and quick release ghosts over her lips. He’s nothing but big talk. When it really came down to it, no matter how tough the situation, he would always run with his tail between his legs. He’s weak. In fact, he’s so pathetic she wasn’t even sure if he could really be considered a threat. There was no way Jack was stupid enough to choose him over her, right? She’d worried over nothing ( literally ), hadn’t she?
He was pitiful, and she was, admittedly, a bit obsessed.
❝ But hey, it’s not all bad! Jack may not need you, but if you promise not to be useless, I’ll need you, Rhys. Wouldn’t that feel nice? To be useful? To not be alone? I’d need you. ❞
Keeping her grip on the fabric of his shirt, she roughly grabs his chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up to get a better look at whatever unruly expression he must be wearing. Surely he wouldn’t agree to her proposition — not yet, at least. He’d consider it eventually. She’ll make him want it. It’s not like his idol, Jack, would find any use for him. If not her, then who else? Maybe they could even be friends. He would accept her eventually. He’ll have to, won’t he?
Until then, she’ll make him remember her.She’ll burn her image, her touch, into his mind.
❝ No need to thank me for this!! ❞
She’ll give him no time to react before closing the distance between them, threading her fingers through his hair, gripping them tightly in her fist as if to keep him from trying to escape. He remains painfully still, most likely frozen from shock, as she moves, slipping her tongue past his slightly parted lips without much warning. Breathing sharply through her nose, lithe fingers yank at chocolate strands, urging him to move or respond — something! He’s as stiff as a board and she’s not one for kissing dead things. His tongue felt an awful lot like a dead slug sitting in his mouth and she’s half-tempted to bit it off, but worries she may not be able to stomach the action and decides against it. Throwing up in someone’s mouth during a kiss isn’t the most romantic thing, and as someone who’s done that before, she decides not to make a repeat of the foul memory.
Becoming exceedingly fed up with Rhys’ bullshit, she’ll take both sides of his face in her hands, pulling him impossibly close. Taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking, sharp canines pierce the flesh, allowing a steady flow of blood to drip down his chin and throat. A pink tongue reveals itself, burning a path up his neck and over a bobbing Adam’s apple, catching stray drops of ichor. She can feel him shudder beneath her ministrations, and grins as they elicit a satisfying groan from within his chest. Working her way back towards his face, she’ll stare appreciatively at the mess he’s become — hair in disarray, lips swollen and bloody, all while sweat stains a furrowed brow.
❝ You’re awfully sweaty Rhys, is it your condition again? Your heart’s been pretty fast too~ ❞
He seems to open his eyes in surprise, as if not knowing he’d closed them, and glares at her all over again — though it’s not as intimidating when his face is a such a charming shade of red and he looks positively ravished. He almost looks like he wants to continue, but she can’t really tell. It’d probably be better to leave him wanting more anyways. Hell, she might even be willing to do that again!
❝ Ahah~! Just think about what I said, yeah? That was nice, wasn’t it? I’m sure could be really good friends if you let us. Whattaya say, Rhys? ❞
Brushing her fingertips over his crooked nose in surprisingly gentle fashion, eyeing the dried blood on his upper lip, she grabs the appendage and gives him no warning before snapping it back in place. It’ll be bruised for quite awhile, but at least it’ll no longer heal crooked! It’d be a damn shame to ruin his handsome face, after all. She could always break it again if he pissed her off. Hopefully it would end the same as this meeting did!
It was akin to the adrenaline rush of downing that seventh whiskey from the dare of a few mutually inebriated buddies at the expense of the following morning’s hangover. Thunderous pounding in his temples were reminiscent to the quick strike of an empty glass hitting the bar counter. Gods of the sea continued an endless mid-war battle in his stomach and goddamn; he wanted to hurl. As unwilling eyes opened from prolonged immobility, his vision blurred and sharpened until it found the proper adjustment. Lifting his torso provided a beastly groan and a quick grasp to his head like so many times prior. This was, however, like no previous late-night binge. He arose not to the familiar atmosphere of his room, but instead a room that was far too cold, far too white, and smelled far too much like cleaning solution.
‘’ What the hell? ‘’ He murmured in clear irritation. Vision wandered his surroundings with an unhindered confusion and this brought only additional annoyance. While everything about what happened before he awoke and why he awoke here was unclear, there was a single fact he was solidly aware of:
Handsome Jack had died.
But.. no, no. Heroes.. heroes don’t die.
Enraged, Jack threw off the hospital sheets from his lap and got himself dressed in a hurry. Making a b-line for the exit ( along the way ignoring the shouts of multiple nurses ), he found himself surrounded by citizens at the entrance of the hospital. Providing the drop of his jaw in disbelief, the ( previous? ) CEO furrowed his brow at the sight. This wasn’t Helios, nor Pandora for that matter. Perhaps one of the Edens he had not yet visited? He scowled as his sight flew back and forth to find some sort of sign of his location ( or perhaps he was looking for a sign that this was just a shitty, unhinged dream ). With a glimpse from his peripheral vision, Jack caught something of familiarity; Hyperion yellow and ECHOeye blue.
‘’ Hey, HEY. ‘’ Jack called out, cutting off the citizen adorning Hyperion tech. ‘’ Alright, listen here, doll face, ‘cause I’m not in the peachiest of moods for selective hearing: tell me where the hell I am and why I’m here and I won’t cut your clavical. Probably. ‘’
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One of the first things he made sure of doing in the new place was to find out where the closest shop selling technology equipment was. Allmates didn't usually require much for repairs - most models could be repaired simply through the interface on the computer or coil - but since Ren was an old model, he often needed some more maintenance than that. Not that he minded - he was his best friend, and it was always worth it to him.
So, Ren led him to the shop. They both should get acquaintaced with it, after all. It was a bit odd, though - it wasn't that Aoba hadn't noticed the lack of Allmates around, but seeing a tech shop that wasn't boasting the newest models or the best parts was a strange change from Midorijima, where so many people were obsessed with Rhyme and their Allmates.
"I hope we can at least get the parts we need from these stores..." He commented, as Ren looked from out of the bag. "Allmates aren't their specialty, I guess, but maybe we can at the very least get some parts sent here."
