| Subject: Showtime |
Author:
Polly
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Date Posted: 10/ 8/13 5:58:16pm
In reply to:
Ruger
's message, "/|Kick It In the Sticks|\" on 10/ 7/13 9:41:20pm
Polly had woken up in the world as free as the wind that whipped around her, chased by the coming storm. She'd felt as wild and angry then too, like a fire straining to burn on too little oxygen as she laid trapped in her own broken body. Her first memories were a fight for freedom. And once she had it, once she'd relearned to inhabit a body, to make it move, she was presented with her real problem. Who the hell was she? It was too much freedom when all she wanted was a sense of self. She was Jane Doe, the coma patient, for two years before her name came to her in a fleeting snippet of memory. 'Paintbrushes for Polly' had echoed through her mind in a singsong way she eerily recognized, but couldn't place. Indian Paintbrushes had been her favorite flowers ever since.
People were their history. No one lived in a vacuum. Humans had tethers. But all Polly had was energy and no direction to throw it. In a lot of ways she felt like she could relate to the tumultuous storm. But she wasn't truly free yet, and wouldn't be until she had a nice little chat with King Dummy about just what he'd relayed, if anything, about her whereabouts. She needed to know she was safe here, because everything in her told her she needed to just be here. That here she had a chance to make life her own. For a time at least.
The violence of the sky lit up the tall clouds, making them crackle and glow ominously with thunder rolling through them like the growling roar of a titan. And as the wind whipped around and Polly saw Ruger inhaling the scent of the heavy atmosphere, she realized that in a lot of ways, Rugar could relate too. She couldn't put it to words that made sense, but if she had to try she'd say he blazed too hotly under his skin.
Polly may have felt like the storm existed within and writhing through her consciousness, but to her, Ruger felt like he was a storm. It was like he carried the force of it just barely contained by stubbornness alone to unleash at will.
She watched the lightning splay out across the sky, illuminating the hunter's form against a backdrop of glittering, roiling chaos, as he walked towards his truck. The light patterns felt like they seared strange symbols into her eyes, something she would ponder over and dissect a hundred times before she would sleep. It was like receiving a signal she couldn't translate. But it was then and there that she realized that there was something bigger at play here. Something she couldn't begin to fathom. Something that meant life or death, but she wasn't sure for who or what.
She let the wind pull away at her as she watched Ruger's back draw closer to his truck. Barefoot, and with eyes that meant playtime was officially over, she stalked to his truck.
Her new resolve was promptly tested and completely bowled over by the magnificent beast of a dog that stole her attention from the moment he started snuffling over the delicate lace of her dress. "Oh, you handsome devil," she praised. Polly flashed that dog the kind of smile that would make a man jealous. Her fingers flickered overs to 'scritch' behind Blue's ears and down the side of his neck delicately before he deemed her an alright human and turned to the back. There was a pretty goofy grin on her face as she watched his tail wag before she pulled the door shut on Ruger's massive trucks and settled herself properly into the passenger seat. After Blue's inspection and acceptance she somehow felt like she had passed an initiation ritual.
The hunter's words brought her back to the task at hand and anchored her once more to her plans. "I wish I could take credit for the light rig. I can just take credit for how I implement it. I'm sure that a handy looking gent like yourself could manage with the right materials," she was already digging through her bag as Ruger started driving. "They don't normally drain the battery that quick, but I was feeling a little vindictive tonight."
"It comes in real handy. They never expect it the first time," the grin she sent him was pure mischief, "And as long as you hit your mark the others won't either."
With quick, efficient movements, Polly shed the minimal jewelry she'd been wearing and tossed the ornate, deadly fan into the bag. The long silver and crystal necklace unwound into a coil on her lap. "You may not have guessed," she teased, "but I'm not exactly a front line fighter."
She tossed him a wry grin as she pulled a pair of black jeans from the bag, "That doesn't stop anything from coming at me like I am when it works for them though." In a smooth movement she managed to get her pants on with her dignity intact and minimal squirming, "I find it works out in my favor if I cheat." The smirk on her face was oddly innocent in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about her eyes that always gave her away. Something that said she was a lot more like the storm than she realized.
Returning to her bag she started rummaging once more, "Of course that all depends on perspective. I like to think being immortal and an asshole leaves more room for cheating than whatever the hell I can whip up in my garage." She yanked a black shirt out of her bag. It was tossed on over the dress before she pulled her arms in and shimmed out of the dress in a practiced movement that lead one to wonder just how often she'd had to change like this in front of others. The dress was thrown into the seat between her and Ruger.
With her mussed up hair, and an excited little wiggle she really hoped went unnoticed, she began pulling out her toys. Some were obvious, like the knives she tucked into a wrist sheath or the pistol she holstered across her ribs. Some were not so obvious, like what was clearly a box of cheap, wooden chopsticks and what looked like a water pistol with a modified tank, pump, and sight. The necklace she'd been wearing at the bar was coiled in her lap. "But don't get me wrong, lights are kind of my thing. Clean kill, no mess to clean up or body to dispose of." She twisted one of the crystal beads nonchalantly as she pondered over what to say, "But frankly anything deadly enough to play with catches my interest for a time at least..." It was really the truest of truths she had. Her mind was constantly playing a melody in moments like this, a symphony of death and the energy the brought it.
Blue's sudden snarl startled her a bit, but she seemed to understand before getting too spooked and instead her eyes flickered to the screen of her phone. Sure enough, vampire number 1 was hiding in this building. "I bet that comes in handy too..." She looked back at Blue, an impressed little smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
As Ruger loaded the shells into his gun, Polly pulled together the last of what she needed. Her socks were on and her feet were slid into a pair of well worn hiking boots before he'd finished.
"Siri, you got blue prints?"
"Information may be out of date."
"No shit, Siri. Gimmie."
"...Download complete," came the emotionless reply.
The last thing she grabbed from her bag was a a pair of goggles that looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie. She could tell the only light in the building would be what they brought and she never went anywhere blind if she could help it. There was a sharp beep and she powered the device on. A 'syncing' message briefly popped up on the screen of the phone over the tracking map. She pulled the goggles over her head and let them rest loosely around her neck where she could pull them on when it was time.
All said and done, she left most of her toys in the truck and took the necklace, anything she'd attached to her body, like the modified Glock 30 on her left side or the silver coated knives. The strange water pistol had a strap and hung it behind her like a rifle. There was mysterious black pouches attached to her belt. When Ruger asked if she was ready, she hesitated, running through a mental check list of what she might need. With a sigh, she yanked a pair of thick, black, elbow length gloves out of her bag and draped them over her shoulder. "I always feel like I should have brought rope," she muttered with the air of someone who was somewhere else for a moment.
With a shake of her head she looked over and assessed Ruger with the full weight of her gaze for the first time since they met. It lingered and broke down his apparent strengths and weaknesses before she grinned and him suddenly. The sky spit lighting, illuminating her as she practically fed on the prehunt energy crackling between them. The wind picked up momentarily, howling something fierce and Polly could feel herself stretching beyond her skin, as if she were losing the bits that made her human and becoming at one with the volatile, chaotic environment. The smile that curved her lips was full of an energy she couldn't contain, but it had a definite predatory edge to it. Like a dog in attack mode, barely held back by the whims of it's master, she was grinning a sharp smile at him. It was all the answer she gave him about her readiness before cracking open his door and hopping down into weather of the abandoned landscape around them.
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