yourunichase | 50: You have got to be kidding.

Entry tags:

50: You have got to be kidding.

No. No. [A clang here, because Parker has thrown the communicator where it bounced against her bed, giving a sideways view of Parker in a now too tight (and torn) suit. When she speaks, it's in an angry, smarmy tone.]

No. No. You have got to be fucking kidding me. After the fucking fear gas, now this. No. Fuck. Anyone but him.

[Parker screams for pretty much the entire sixth level to hear, and then she kicks her bed and is rewarded with a further tearing sound in her suit before she looks and realizes that the communicator is still on.]

God damn it!

[She stalked over to it and looked into it for a second.]

Fuck this place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't fucking know!

Why the fuck would I turn into the creepy fucker who's stalking me? Who never leaves me alone and who invades every aspect of my fucking life?

I need booze, Denise, and I can't go to the fucking pub for it.

Edited 2010-07-12 19:37 (UTC)

You and me both. I'll bring enough for both of us to drown in.

Do you think drowning would put us back?

Not like it matters, we won't be conscious to know.

That's fucking true. Scotch.

Gotcha.

Good.

[True to her word, Denise is knocking on Parker's door about ten minutes later, loaded down with Scotch.]

Edited 2010-07-13 03:42 (UTC)

[Parker had changed into Paddy' baggy clothing, and she had attempted to clean up some of the mess that she had made in her anger. When she opened the door, there was a look of relief on her face, and she reached out for the scotch.]

Thank fucking god. So who the fuck are you?

Uh-uh. [She keeps one bottle where Parker can grab it, but reaches to hold the other up above her head.] One for you, one for me.

[Denise, meanwhile, has thrown on one of her big hockey jerseys and a particularly worn-out pair of scrub pants. Forget shoes or socks, there's no way any of hers will fit now.]

Drew Suffin. Med student, older than me, pretty screwed up. We're kinda doing a...dating...thing. Kinda.

[Her voice sounds just as defensive as she feels.]

Edited 2010-07-13 04:01 (UTC)

Good. I fucking hate to share. [Parker took her bottle and headed over to her bed, dropping down onto it. A part of her really hated that Jarod's body was on her bed, but considering how many times he'd been in and out of her house in the last four years, she supposed that it really didn't matter. Her brow didn't raise anywhere near as well as it normally did when she was herself, but Parker made the effort anyway.]

At least you fucking like him.

LIKE him. That's ALL. Just the kind of "like" you reserve for a frequent fuck-slash-drinking buddy.

[She declares it a little too fast...and way too forcefully. Then she regains her cool, tsk's and saunters past Parker into her room with a one-armed shrug.]

But I mean, whatever, right? No big deal.

Edited 2010-07-13 04:16 (UTC)

Right. [Hmm, Parker imagined that it was a bit more than fucking that, but she wasn't going to mention it. After all, she didn't want to have a giant fucking heart to heart right now, she just wanted to drink.

Parker took a large drink of her scotch.]

No big fucking deal. [She agreed quickly.]

Maybe this means they'll never fucking show up aboard.

[Denise opens her bottle and takes a swig, welcoming her new, intoxicating overlord.]

Ch'yeah, here's to that. [She clinks her bottle against that of her inmate.]

What would you do if Jarod did show up here, anyway?

Kill him.

[The words were spoken reflexively, and Parker attempted to rest the bottle on her chest for a moment before she remembered that she didn't have boobs for it to sit on. God damn it.]

Or kill myself. I keep thinking he will, because the second I fucking really start to think he won't, I know he's going to show up here and leave me little puzzles and games and make my life a fucking living hell.

Kill yourself and I'll kick your ass. Seriously, though, I wouldn't let him pull that shit with you. It's like you forget I'm prepared to bust some skulls.

[Another drink.]

You used to pal around with him as a kid, right? How do things get that screwed up?

You don't understand, Denise. He's a fucking pretender, he can be anyone he fucking wants to be. [She took another large drink of the scotch, wincing a bit.] He broke into my fucking house over and over again, you can't stop him if he shows up here. No one can.

[Parker went silent for a long moment.] My mother died and I started to pull away. Stuck around for two years after that before...

[She stopped, and she waited, and then when she spoke her tone was sharp and hissy.]

We kissed. I got sent to boarding school a fucking week later.

[She raises an eyebrow. The effect isn't as awesome when she's out of her own body.]

Ooh, harsh. I'm guessing romancing the test subjects was a big no-no?

It wasn't fucking romancing. [Parker frowned quickly.]

Nothing about Jarod and I has anything to do with romance.

[Save for you know, the flowers, and the chocolates, and the romance novel, and the asking her to be his valentine.]

It was... a stupid damn experiment.

Romancing, "experimenting," whatever. So who caught you kissing?

No one. [Parker slammed her hand against the bed.] That's what I don't get! We were supposed to be in the blindspot, the place where the fucking camera's couldn't see us but we ended up on a fucking DIS anyway!

[Parker got up, and she headed to her closet. She reached into the back of the space, knocking over shoes as she did so. When she returned to the bed, she was carrying what looked to be a wide, silver briefcase, but when she opened it up, there was a screen inside. She inserted the first disc into the player. After a moment, little Parker could be seen heading over to Jarod, and he talked for a moment about love and feelings for people and kissing and Parker kissed him quickly.]

[Denise watched the video clip, and took another drink.]

Did ya ever think that maybe, just maybe, the fuckers led you to believe there were no cameras there when there were? So they'd know exactly where to expect disallowed shit to go down?

[Parker just stared at the clip. She hadn't looked at these since after Jarod had them delivered to her. He fucking loved to have the copies delivered to her; it was such a twisted game.]

Do you think they fucking lead us to believe it? [Her voice was sharp, angry] We had to find the places where the cameras weren't. We spent time in ducts, in tubes, the fucking Centre has surveillance everywhere. Hell, it's why I had three bug killers in my office.

[She indicated the screen.]

Well, there was clearly a camera there to record this, and they obviously did a great fucking job of making it look like it wasn't. So I'd say yeah, they did that to lead whoever to believe it was a camera-free zone.

That's just like the fucking Centre. They play the biggest fucking games of all. They're the ones who killed my mother, and they kidnapped Jarod and my fucking father he pitted us against each other and now Jarod won't stay out of my life for fifteen fucking minutes. I hadn't thought about him in years.

[Parker got up and started pacing back and forth now.] Years until my father called me at three in the morning when he escaped.

Don't know it, sorry!-Also, oh Parker so much simplifying.

Re: Don't know it, sorry!-Also, oh Parker so much simplifying.

no subject

no subject

no subject

spam or assume?

Spam? Something actually important may come out of this.

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam.

Re: Spam.

Spam.

Re: Spam.

Spam.

Re: Spam.

Spam.

Re: Spam.

Spam.

Spam.

Re: Spam.

Re: Spam.

Spam.

Spam.

Spam.