Miss Parker (
yourunichase) wrote2010-07-12 03:00 am
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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.
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.
Spam.
At least you fucking like him.
Re: Spam.
[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.
Spam.
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.
Re: Spam.
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?
Spam.
[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.
Re: Spam.
[Another drink.]
You used to pal around with him as a kid, right? How do things get that screwed up?
Spam.
[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.
Re: Spam.
Ooh, harsh. I'm guessing romancing the test subjects was a big no-no?
Spam.
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.
Spam.
Re: Spam.
[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.]
Re: Spam.
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?
Spam.
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.
Spam.
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.
Spam.
[Parker got up and started pacing back and forth now.] Years until my father called me at three in the morning when he escaped.
Spam.
Seriously, your life sucked hard. So did they train you just to hunt down escapees early, or did you get a crash course when Jarod escaped?
Spam.
Spam.
Re: Spam.
[A blink and a long swing of scotch before she narrowed her eyes at Denise.]
And I'm fine over the fucking fear gas, thanks.
Re: Spam.
You're welcome. Jesus. You gotta remember I was in the infirmary tying down and sedating lunatics all day when that went down. I could barely remember my own damn name, let alone who was there. Sorry, okay?
[She takes another drink. She hasn't hit blackout yet, not even close, and that's her goal. The less she has to remember of being in Drew's body, the better.]
See, if I were you, I would have said 'fuck no' and taken as many as I could down with me--but then again, I kinda lack a healthy level of fear, and it's probably a good thing that you didn't do that.
How much of your life besides college did this shit eat? Y'know, free time, friends, goals, stuff like that.
Spam.
[Was it easier to talk about stabbing one of your friends and dead mothers then this? Why yes, yes it was. She took a deep drink of the scotch, knowing it was too fast but she didn't care. When she spoke it was angry.]
I love my father. I would have done anything to make him happy. [And she had.]
I had goals. [In the Centre.] And I didn't need friends or free time or anything like that. [Until Tommy.]
Spam.
[She picked up on the fact that you didn't mention your fiancee, Parker. That's kind of a big deal.]
What about Tommy? Didn't you need him?
Spam.
Don't you fucking bring him into this. Tommy didn't need me. What the fuck did I get Tommy? I got him dead.
[She closed her eyes for a moment, because she was damn sure she wasn't going to be crying tears from Jarod's eyes]
Spam.
[She leaned forward, and it was clear she was about to home in one one point and stick to it.]
Your goddamn father dragged you back in. He didn't think about what you wanted and leave you to your college shit--he used your love for him to get you into a job that required you to hunt people down and kill them for a living, even after what happened to your mom. He brought you back into a world where you can't even fucking love someone without unintentionally painting a huge target on their chest for the rest of your people to see.
[She took another swig.]
There's something really wrong with that shit right there.
Re: Spam.
My father loves me, and he wants what's best for me. The Centre is my legacy,
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Spam.
Re: Spam.
Spam.
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