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Post by bellasantanarovens on Jan 11, 2011 22:23:03 GMT -6
 - - - - - - …karma did not exist in this screwed up world. anybody with a functional brain should let go of that little dream. however, considering there were a ton of people who believed in it, there must have been a lot of dysfunctional brains out there. if karma did exist, well the phrase "karma's a bitch" was accurate as hell. isabella santana rovens did not believe in karma at all though. good karma, bad karma... it was all in your head. she didn't believe in a god, some almighty power, aliens, ghosts, spirits, buddha, muhammad, and whoever else the delirious people of her planet worshipped. she didn't believe cows should be glorified, pigs neither. seriously, what the fuck? it's just a damn cow, calm the hell down. you can eat it, you can kill it, you can not bow to it every time it walks by you. she hated all that religious idiocy. in fact, she felt this undying need to punch all pious people in the jugular. take herself, for example. a little over three years ago, bella had been innocent. she had been a good person. well, maybe not exactly christ-like, but she wasn't bad. the most violent she'd ever gotten in those days was the time she'd punched out her sister's exboyfriend when she found out he was cheating on her. sure, he might have cried a little, but the bastard deserved it. but otherwise she'd been pretty kind hearted, even if she may have hid that behind some thick skin. she was good. but the thing was, her mother was better. isabella teixeira's mom had been the most genuine soul you would have ever encountered in the course of your ife, and guess what happened? horseshit. wasn't karma supposed to have the opposite effect? wasn't god supposed to bless the righteous? yes, buddha preached about facing your struggles and all that good stuff... but the whole reicarnation crap wasn't realistic. bella got screwed at a young age, and her mother got it even worse. she saw things no seventeen year old should ever see. she discovered things no family member should ever have to discover about another. she did things nobody should ever do. sure, it started with self defense from a man her father had hired to assassinate her mother, but after that bella became numb to any deeper emotions, or at least that's what she'd been telling herself. she spiralled downward on santa's naughty list. and then what happened? good stuff. she got her revenge, she was welcomed amongst the feared, and she made friends in high, or low depending how you looked at it, places. bella had been respected as a partner, not treated like an employee. she wasn't a good person, not anymore. and the good stuff just kept coming. she broke off from those damn brazilians, ran off with a ton of their goods, and began a banging business, though of course she had made quite a few enemies in the process, and even lost the only person she'd considered her friend that first year she'd turned to the dark side. the good outweighe the bad, though. she was making money and getting quite a reputation. she made new friends too, or at least one new friend, allegra mancini. and allegra had introduced her to maggie giovanni, who wasn't exactly a friend of bella's, but she was somebody bella felt she could go to if she really found herself that deep in trouble. then mario found out where she was, which forced her to uproot her business and move to los angeles. that was bad. not to mention after only a few months of living their one of mario's brainless lackies found her and shot her. with a gun. yeah, it really wasn't a pleasant couple of days. but good news came again when she'd heard a small town outside l.a. suffered a massive earthquake. she went there, ran into allegra, and was healed up good as new. well, kind of. she was still recovering, but she was fine. and alive. so good things happened to bad people, and bad things happened to good people. isabella was living proof of that. and karma did not exist.
…bella liked valkyrie well enough. it was quiet, and picturesque like something out of a cheesy television series following a spoiled brat who's biggest problem is she likes two boys at the same time. the beach was nice, and probably better in the summer. not to mention bella's only ally in the world was residing here. for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. oh god no, she'd never admit that to anybody out loud, but it was nice to finally have time to breathe and be pensive. valkyrie seemed like a nice place, some dramatic people, but nobody dangerous. well, at least not like killer and mobsters crawling around every alleyway. yeah, there was allegra. and maggie and the giovanni's were here, but that was all bella knew for sure. allegra hadn't had enough time to give her the four-one-one on the place yet, considering the earthquake had only happened days ago. and as nice as all that inner-peace crap was, bella was bored. sure, she could go see maggie to get some details or something, but she just felt like it'd be a bit awkward without allegra there too, since that was the primary thing they'd had in common since bella had only met her a few times, and maybe done a small bit of business here and there. they're weren't friends though. maybe someday they would be, but not yet. so that left bella with a friend count of one, and nothing to do. and that was when her oh so incredibly brilliant idea knocked on the door to her brain... body shopping. oh don't be sensitive, it's really not as bad as it sounds, or maybe that was just in bella's mind. she was going to go out and rummage through collapsed buildings and homes, shuffle through the dead, and collect anything interesting or of value so she could make a profit. it wasn't beyond her to take anything straight off a body lying somewhere if she found any, but that seemed unlikely. she figured the city probably cleared out the dead, except with the aftermath of the earthquake there must be a lot to do, and bella would bet a million bucks that the rich and the actual city were going to be the first ones cleaned up - so she was gonna hit the lower income part of valkyrie. she'd planned on doing this with allegra, or they'd breifly discussed it, but she wasn't sure if it was a serious conversation or not. not to mention she was sure they could still find stuff when allie finally had a time slot open. but as for now, bella was going to do it on her own. tonight, in fact. so at around midnight she started to get ready for her little expedition. she wore dark colors, and nothing she really cared about because she didn't want to ruin anything she'd like to wear later. she grabbed an old duffel bag, and then, because of her paranoia that maybe she'd have a run in with a goon here like it happened in l.a. just a week or so ago, she wasn't going tolet her guard down all that easy. so she found a pistol that was probably in some artillery depressed mood since it hadn't been used in such a long time and loaded it up. the gun was safely tucked into her boot. then she found a pocket knife she'd bought once because she liked the design on it, but figured it would come in handy someday anyway, and slid it down the back side of her other boot. she wasn't going to go unprepared and vulnerable. bella normally wouldn't be such a stinge by doing it in the black of night without any nosy eyes to keep watch, but she felt the need to lay low for a while. her life was a bit more exciting than usual, at it was a little much, even for her.
…once she had everything squared away, the cheeky dame silently left the boundaries of her shabby apartment located in an area of the shaks that seemed a bit more stable, since nothing on her block had suffered any severe damage. she was careful not to make a sound considering the her long lord, old mrs. doris barns, was a bit of a scrooge and would probably have a cow if she heard bella wandering off at two in the morning when the sane person should be resting up. not to mention she was like that grandma everybody has who you never wanted to visit because they just nagged and sent you to their room, which mrs. barns would surely feel entitled to do. she had a good heart, but god was the woman annoying. after cautiously making her way down the stairs, she exited the two story building and immediately hooked around the back end, heading towards a neighborhood she'd seen when she'd first rolled into town that had look pretty beat up. it was in the shaks, but a bit deeper in than bella's neighborhood. it only took her about thirty minutes to find it, which she considered good timing for somebody new. any valkyrie native would have thought her an idiot since it really was only exactly eight minutes from her own dwelling if you took the back way. when she arrived, she scouted out a crumbling building that looked like it could collapse at any moment. the window was shattered, probably during the quake. bella climbed in, careful to make sure she didn't cut herself. once inside, she pulled out a flashlight and began looking through the rubble for anything of interest.
status•finished.
tagged•jella?! jellie?! bamie?! bellie?! choose! lol
comments•sooo excited.
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Jan 15, 2011 15:01:09 GMT -6
 -----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] - - - IT HAD BEEN [/b][/font] a month. almost. not quite. less than a month, actually. more like three weeks, and that was probably being generous. fine. it had been three weeks. and he was bored. like, out-of-his-head bored. there was so little to do in this charming litle city, jamie collins was finding himself watching baseball. and, trust me, he hated baseball like he hated his family. which is off-the-charts hatred. and yet, here he was, slouched on the couch in his dank motel room, flipping between one baseball game to baseball highlights. was this a california thing, or just a motel thing? playing nothing but the world's most boring sport at all hours of the day. he'd settle for football right now. which ranks somewhere near basketball and golf. frustratedly throwing the remote onto the floor, the russian-american crossed his arms and slouched down farther. washington had played pittsburgh tonight, and that was an event he cleared his entire schedule for. when the hockey game had actually been on, the static-filled feed from that old radio he found left much to be desired. now he couldn't even find highlights. and this was with a digital box, where he was flipping through all the canadian channels. don't they watch hockey eighty hours out of the day? when it comes to your sport, there are that many hours in a day. don't ask questions. all that we're deciding here is that he would rather claw his eyes out that watch one more homerun. so. fucking. bored. it was football highlights (why is it always highlights?) when he came to again. it was a nightly occurence, falling into some sort of slumber while brooding over the lack of hockey on the tv. he never stayed asleep for long, an hour at most. he liked it like that. waking up so often never allowed his mind to truly rest, which meant it never approached the nightmares he never actually got. no, they're nothing to worry about. and no, he doesn't want to talk about it. shut up now, please. it wasn't the thrilling voice of the announcer that startled him, either. it was the opening and slamming of the door. did she always have to slam it? bringing a clammy hand up to rub his eyes, jamie took his sweet time meeting ksenia in the eye. what time was it? past one-thirty, if his phone was correct. and what in hell was she doing back so late? "he's missing three fingers now." her words were alert, clearly still on the adrenaline rush. groaning lightly, he stiffly pushing himself to his feet. "hello to you, too." ignored, as always. the blonde threw her duffel bag onto her bed and shrugged out of her jacket. "it's so barbaric, cutting off fingers. can't anyone think of something more sanitary?" she spent the night checking up on drug users, making deal and collecting overdue payments, and all she could bitch about was how nasty it was to cut off someone's finger? officially converted. "it's for the irish, it's for the italians. you've told me before. but it works." his accented voice was amused, ironic. it'd been a long time since he'd had to supervise such trivial duties. it was more boring that disgusting. but that's just his opinion. stumbling into the poor excuse for a kitchen, he was just sorting through the mess of dishes, looking for a glass, when he heard her turn the safety off the gun. guns and ksenia sakahrov don't mix. that was the first rule. she could be like all the other female family members, and become obsessed with knives. "don't make me put that down for you." placing the glass on the counter, jamie turned to see ksenia doing whatever to his very own gun. at least use your own. "unless you plan on shooting me, give me my gun back." more ignoring. it took an easy three steps before he was standing over her, his cousin, the familiar steel-eyed gleam dancing in his eyes. he thought of ksenia as a sister, a partner, and a friend. but when it came to his rules, everything flew out the window. she was still in subordinate, and it was his job to train her. so we play by his rules. without asking, he wrestled the gun from her light grasp. securing it in his shoulder-holster, he pulled her down onto her bed. "now that it's confirmed you aren't killing anyone tonight, what were you doing with my gun?" sitting at the edge of the mattress, jamie tilted his head to the side, his words soft. she'd done that before, snatching his gun while he drooled to baseball (put hockey on, and we wouldn't have this issue). and it was never for a good reason. "some guy isn't paying up." for a change, it was ksenia who was pouting. she was curled up against the walll, arms crossed, not looking at him. well, at least there was no outstanding issue with her. she just wanted to play the game like he did. problem was, he didn't want her playing the game like that. no one should have to. "and you pull a gun on him? let me turn to page one of 'what not to do'." his voice was amused again. it was rule one - no matter how low your standing, you listen to what the bosses say. and they say never pull a gun unless it's life-and-death. jamie ignored that, but few others did. and he was to make sure ksenia followed it. she continued to slouch and not respond. he rolled his eyes. "it takes time, kay. did he do anything to you?" headshake he didn't actually believe. so nothing probably happened, she [sighing lightly, jamie pushed himself up. "i'll take care of it."finding his sweater, and zipping his leather jacket over it, jamie sighed and looked back over to ksenia. she was in the same position, clearly in another world. musing over something. the job, probably. she'd seen him do it so often, she was picking up on it. she was picking up on many of his habits, actually. and that's never a good thing. and if she was anything like him, talking about it would result in a slap or a black eye. he'd learned that the hard way. the best thing to do when your partner is upset over something, it to go and threaten whoever upset them. he'd done it before, she'd tried to do it before. it was just unspoken loyalty here. besides, the rational side of his brain argued, if this douchenozzle doesn't pay up soon, things could get difficult. even a stitch this low on the ladder - some small town junkie - could cause problems higher up. best blow the problem out now, with someone who really means business, than let it fester. besides, he was fucking bored. maybe threatening some poor addict was enough to cure the pain left behind missing the penguins-captials game. he didn't bother walking. their motel was already located deep within the shaks ("better invisibility" was ksenia's official reason. "cheap as fuck" was his.) and who would approach jamie collins in the middle of the night? few knew what he looked like, and more knew who he was. wherever ksenia went on her trivial little duties, he made sure she dropped his name. just in case. she could be scary. but he could be deadly. kicking at the debris strewn across his path, jamie pushed his hands into his pockets and continued to wander. this place really was a wreck. he'd rarely paid attention his surroundings before now. but now that he was, it was...damn. one earthquake really brings the ugly out in a city. it also brings the ugly out in the scum-crawlers, too, it seemed. the amount of trash and defacement was surprising. it was everywhere. and this was coming from an individual who'd spent many years running wild back home, in charlestown. this entire sector of the city must be almost completely deserted. he'd never seen this many streets silent, save for the drooling addicts he was looking for. arching an eyebrow as he came upon a certainly run-down building, he approached it cautiously. this...whatever it had been, was less destroyed than the rest. about to crumble at any time, yes. but much of it was still standing. slowing his steps, and shallowing his breaths, jamie moved quickly toward it, in and out of the shadows. true, no one was probably there, but ksenia hadn't bothered to tell him where this guy was. all he had to go on was some sap crying because he'd lost three fingers. the blood stains on the ground looked old, probably from the quake. moving silently along the outside wall, looking for an entrance, he only reached for his gun when he saw the flash of light. immediately stopping, jamie silently drew his gun upward, keeping it close to his torso. moving even more carefully than before, he slipped through a crack in the crumbling wall. no reasonable addict would have things like flashlights. someone with a brain was here. continuing along the wall, he moved toward the room he'd seen the initial flash. the closer he got, the more noise he heard. whoever was here didn't seem to think they'd be interrupted. stupid was the first thought that came to mind. normal was the second. who'd be creeping around this neighbourhood at this hour, anyway? it was probably some collector of junk who wanted to find something new. like a crow. his sharp eyes finally locating the actual figure - smaller than he'd originally anticipated - he slid through the shadows toward it. "don't you dare mo- wait." drawing his gun again, pointing it at his companion's back, he stopped mid-sentence. arching an eyebrow again, he located her shoulder and roughly turned her around to face him. fucking seriously? a look of disbelief crossing his face, he scoffed lightly, lowering his gun. "what in hell are you doing here? alive." it'd been a long time since he'd seen her, bella. but he had been more than sure she would have been dead by now. karma sure is screwed up. baseball highlights, football highlights, and now unwanted company from his past. what'd he ever do?[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 1727 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, ahh, late.</3 hope it ended okay.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Jan 16, 2011 0:31:13 GMT -6
- - - - - -
…the past few years had been a pain in the ass. bella hadn't had much luck socially, though she boomed in the business central. not to mention, enemies of the brazilians were eager to buy from the girl who screwed mario ferreira so bad he felt humiliated and th need to seek out revenge. at first it'd kind of just been like spitting in mario's face, and bella didnt really care that it was the only reason they'd purchased from her. eventually she earned her credibility through them and they started buying less because the wanted to piss off the douchelord of the century, and more because they liked the way she did her business, and how reliable she'd been, and the quality of her stuff. she was big in the weapons vending in the black market. she'd also been pretty good at making other people disappear. bella could whipe somebody off the map, give them a new identity, and thus a new life, and send them on their way. she knew some dirty little secrets that nobody else did. she knew people who were alive that everybody else thought was dead. and then there was her information broking side of the business. miss rovens just knew things. people would sell her info, and she'd sell what she learned for even more. she knew things about orginizations that some people would love to get their hands on. bella charged some steep prices, but it was worth it, and she made sure what she spread out was legite, and if it was a rumor, she'd add in that disclaimer and lower the price of the secrets. for a criminal, she was pretty fair and honest in her dealing, or at least she was as long as she didn't hate your guys. but isabella loved her job.
…yeah, it might sound twisted, demented, and maybe evil, but it was true. bella liked her job a lot. after all the shit she went through, she was glad with the way things ended up. it was an easy business to run, and while it had it's perks and quirks, it also had it's dangers. it usually wasn't anything bad though. a brazilian goon here, a russian cahooter there, but they weren't after bella personally. they all just hated her because of mario and he'd put some sort of bounty on her head. she wondered how much money it was sometimes, but that was beside the point. it wasn't like she ever put herself in harms way. she never did the drugs, and rarely used the guns. yes, bella had killed people, but only in self defense. she'd killed for men. the first was the man who murdered her mother, he second and third were men who were supposed to make sure she went through with mario's fantasy wedding (not exactly self defence, but it was for the purposes of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness... right?), and then the man who'd shot her in l.a. who she'd managed to shoot back. he'd asked for it, the bastard. she could have died because of his damn little vendetta. some people might find the fact that she liked her job an effect of dementia, but it really wasn't all that bad. she definitely wasn't the dirtiest criminal out there. she wasn't gruesome or brutal. cutting off appendages or poking eyeballs... that definitely was not her preferred highway to drive down. she was a businesswoman, not a monster. some may disagree, but who gave a flying rat's ass what thos people thought?
…despite her fondness of her infamous career choice, there were some things bella would like to forget about. she hated the nightmares, and yes, they'd gotten better, but she still had them often about that day that changed her life forever. she could never get that image of her dead mother out of her head. there was always so much blood. she could never forget how she'd turned into an animal and attacked that man, how he was the first man she killed. and then finding out her dad was responsible for it all, that was a real cherry topper. what a dysfunctional fucking family. and then there was the less haunting issues about the whole ordeal and the more melancholy familial problems she had to deal with. like leaving behind her grandparents and older sister. she really missed aria. her and her sister had been like best friends before everything happened. and her sweet old grandparents were the most genuine hearted people you would ever cross paths with. it was better this way though. they had no idea she was alive, and it was better.
…a lot of people thought bella was dead, actually. back when she'd first fled london after her mother's murder, it'd been widespread that she was kidnapped, and she was pronounced dead a while later and had a funeral service and everything. she couldn't even imagine seeing a headstone with her name on it. it creeped her out to no end. a lot of people from her past probably assumed her a gonner. mario thought she was gone for a while before he got tipped off by some dirty traitor that she wasn't. bella liked being mistaken for dead. it gave her this odd liberating feeling of having a fresh start. it had another effect though, a less positive one. it was scary to think nobody knew she was alive, that when she really did die nobody would care because there wasn't really anybody left who actually cared who knew she wasn't actually dead. maybe one day she'd show up on her sister's doorstep with an awkward "surprise!", but she had a feeling she might get beat with a bat or have the cops called on her. it would be nice to have family again, to have those people who always had her back. she'd even had that when stefano ferreira had still been alive and running his crime orginization. when he died though, there went the last of any relative feeling she'd been given by anybody.
…all these thoughts had floated around in her mind as she wandered around in search of the perfect digging spot. and they continued on, becoming even deeper the more time that passed. once she had found her destination though, she'd been mechanically looking around, rather deep in thought. she found quite a few things worth her time though. there was a diamond ring in the dust and debris, as well as a ruby pendant. she found a diamond bracelet too. some jewelry box must have taken a beating around there. she also found a few cases with guns inside, probably the man of the house's. there wasn't anything much more excitingthan that though, that or maybe she wasn't looking hard enough. and then, out of nowhere, she thought she heard a noise. she broke away from the reveries of her past and looked around, listening, but she didn't hear anything else and almost laughed at herself for being paranoid. why would anybody be out here looking around for her anyway? it didn't seem very likely at all. so she directed her flashlight around, mainly looking for some sort of shiny looking thing, anything really. she just wanted to pawn it all for some cash anyway. there wasn't much around though, so maybe she'd chosen the one house that had been looted. suddenly, a sparkle caught her eye when the bright light hit the ground. she was about to bend over to see what it was when she heard a voice. her entire body tensed, and then she felt the grip on her shoulder, turning her around. a question, then, and it was none othere than... god, that was impossible.
…james collins. she hadn't seen him in years, literally. the last time she'd seen him had been when mario made his wedding announcement, and it'd been under some pretty... odd, for lack of a better word, circumstances. god, how she hated him. but seeing him did bring her a wave of sudden remorse. it made her think of ksenia, the first and only friend she'd had in the crime world. they'd gotten along splendidly for those six to eight months she was officially a part of the brazilian mafia. once she "betrayed" them (as they seemed to describe it), bella cut off all communication from ksenia. she just didn't think the girl would turn her back on her loyalties to remain her own friend. bella wasn't sure she'd have done the same. well, actually, she probably would have considering she never had any real ties to the mafia.., but it was different for ksenia, they were her family. bella didn't expect her to pick, so she figured she'd been making it easier by ending their friendship for her. james, however, she'd had no remorse for, not missing of, not sad feelings toward. he was just there. here, actually. he was standing right in front of her. she definitely noticed the gun in his hand, and was a little surprised when he lowered it to ask her his question. she was skittish though, not trusting him a bit, and she jerked away from him, swatting at his hand in hopes that it'd loosen the gun from his grasp and send it flying to china. she gracefully dodged backwards, a snarky smile playing with her lips, "oh dear jamie-poo, you don't really think i'm that easy to get rid of, do you?" she walked to the side a bit, casually kicking her duffle bag into the shadows. she kept her hands tightly knotted together behind her back, he eyes cat-like and suspicious, "i'm insulted by your obvious lack of confidence in me, love," her tone was bitter and mocking, and somewhat teasing as well. she was shocked to be here with him, and she would be even more shocked if he let her walk out without a fight. but hell, she would put one up, and he of all people should know that.
status•finished.
tagged•jellie freaking bean.
comments•i'm tired, so i hope that didn't affect this.
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Jan 21, 2011 1:39:50 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] - - - HE DIDN'T REALLY [/b][/font] know why he was still here. in valkyrie. it'd been what? too long. almost a month. four weeks is the longest he'd ever been anywhere for a casual job. why do you think his apartment back home in boston is so sparse? in the last year, he'd spent ninety-two nights there. one hundred and fifty-four in boston. the rest were spent...wherever. he didn't keep tabs. moscow, new york, sometimes chicago. wherever he was needed. half of the remaining two hundred and eleven days were probably spent on an airplane. that was just what he did, you know? he was never anywhere for long. i mean, he's jamie. james fucking collins. the last resort. the mook you call in to finish the job, clean up the job, and send off to do the same on the next job. that sort of lifestyle kind of asks for casual living arrangements. those two hundred odd days of 2011 were never spent in the same place, either. three days here, maybe a week there. his frequent flyer miles were outrageous. jamie collins is not the guy to ask to stay in one place for long. he gets bored, he starts shooting people. it'd been like, three months since he'd fired his weapon. you know what that does to a person? but the lecture is the same. "we're keeping a low profile." "stop being such a fucking psycho." "give me the gun. killing people is bad." all variations of those three statements. well, that's what you do when you keep him in one place for too long with nothing to fucking do. too long, almost a month. so, please, enlighten me - why the hell is he still here? because the answer remains unknown to him. it wasn't all that bad here...he just didn't know why he was still here. before this earthquake and family bullshit happened, he'd never been told to stay somewhere. when he'd reported to whoever that he and ksenia were setting up shop in valkyrie for awhile, he'd been expecting some sort of resistance. they needed him to continue his grim janitorial duties, surely. of course not. it was a "sure! great!" and revolving all his business around valkyrie. uh, not what he asked for. the original reason both he and ksenia had come here was because november had asked him to. he hadn't seen her since, let alone heard from her. as far as he was concerned, whatever happened had solved itself. good. he hadn't been fond of the idea of getting involved in the first place. so, please for the love of god, tell me why they weren't leaving. he'd asked ksenia that ten times a day for the past week. it was how their relationship worked. he was the boss, the one who calls the shots. and she's the nagging mother who rolls her eyes at his trivial poutings (missing the penguins-capitals game is very good reason for pouting, thank you). if she didn't decide to leave valkyrie on her own accord, there would be no end to the complaining. so he was left here, waiting for her to get bored. fuck that. he was bored. while the reason to stick around remains unknown, he knew he was getting seriously bored. what the hell is there to do in this town? his drinking percentage had increased dramatically since being here. he hung out at bars now. dirty little dives where he chain-smoked and drank cheap beer, only out of the bottle. cans are for pansy football fans. the only night worth remembering was that night about a week and a half previous, when he'd stumbled upon bad seeds. not that he remembered the bar. he remembered behind the bar. his steamy almost-hook up with the girl with perfect olive skin, ridicuously cute laugh and a nice rear end. carly, i think. that rebellious night had left him both intoxicated and empty. he craved her touch. but apparently finding someone here is impossible. and the girls he'd done similar acts with never measured up. see what valkyrie is doing to him? he found himself losing focus. he was drinking more, definitely smoking more, and experimenting with no strings attached sex. all things that everyone who is not jamie collins do. not that he told ksenia that. knowing that information would just inspire her to stay here longer, just to see what she could do to him. another month and he'd be a fucking looney toon. he was out here, in the middle of a small town's ruins, looking for some junkie, wasn't he? six months ago, he never would have insisted ksenia do that. he was running out of things for her to do. there was no chance in hell he was going to get involved in the california mafia and its politics. set up shop in some beach town and operate to and from los angeles. and that's it. real exciting. he needed to get out, go home. kill somebody, get yelled at. doesn't matter. something to feel like less of a wanna-be badass. and i'm going to take a wild guess and say lurking around for some unbathed guy with three missing fingers isn't a good place to start. well, let's give it a little credit. he was doing something. no time to muse over the increasingly present issues he seemed to be dealing with lately. the 'save for later' pile was quickly unravelling on him. fuck. he kept a tight grip on his gun. maybe some knife-wielding italian psychopath would appear from the shadows and give him something to really do. one can dream. no luck so far. keeping his steps quiet, jamie flickered his blue-eyed gaze over his surroundings. rubble, destruction. more rubble. why would someone even come here? they were a crow, remember? attracted to any invitaton to pilfer through the crap society no longer wanted. like isabella rovens. hah. it was still fucking stupid that she was here of all places. his grip remained tight as he lowered his gun. it'd be...how long? several years. he was talking to pierce at the time. not temperance. i don't think. apart from that short-lived visit to jail, he hadn't spoken to his younger sister since he was eighteen or nineteen. a long fucking time. and the only reason he'd ever continued to tolerate bella here was because ksenia found her to be...he didn't even know. smart, loyal, funny. so get a dog. he would have prefered a bullet to the back of the head, but he'd settled for dark glares and bitter banter. it doesn't matter how long it'd been. he had never rendered the girl a threat before, and he wasn't about to start now. she was wearing that hat, after all. but still, his grip remained firm. light eyes examining the sudden hesistation that crossed her face, jamie's own expression softened. was he reading something into...nope. the split second he'd lowered his guard, he found his gun being swallowed by the shadows. swearing softly, he took a moment. the steel leaked into his eyes, the hatred into his voice. she owed him a gun. standing limply, in the same position from when he turned her around, to when she hit his gun, to when she dodged backward, he eyed her. paralyed by what, exactly? please let me know, because he'd love to know as well. internally, he kicked himself. "i do, in fact." dislike bit at his words. "something about being a coward who tries to play the game with the professional." actions failed him, words didn't seem to be doing too bad. this is why he hated sticking around - the past was always hanging in the air. right in front of him, tonight. see, even seeing someone as invalid as bella was all the more reminder of the past confronting him. it terrified him. seeing her here, alive, reminded him he failed to kill her. he failed to see what was going to happen in the first place. stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. he was well aware his emotions were going ten million miles a second; all of which were clearly expressed on his face. he just didn't care. "please, do enlighten me. when did i ever express confidence in you?" he continued to watch her, her movements. kicking the duffel bag to the side, weaving her hands behind her back. he watched it all. while his stupidity issues were well aware on his face, his eye remained icy throughout everything. ten seconds, that's all it took. one two three. four five. file it in the back, on the growing pile of "deal with it later"s. six seven eight. regain composure. nine ten, move quickly. his lack of confidence in her came with a good reason - he was always better. he moved quickly, now at eleven seconds. right up to her. taking advantage of her open composure, he forced his body weight against hers, right up to the closest wall. sexist or not, he was a guy. and guys are naturally heavier, stronger, than women. sorry. pressing right up against her, he pinned her to the wall. crossing one arm across her chest, he used his other to hover around her neck, his free hand loosely gripping it. "give me one reason why i shouldn't." unlike her, his voice held no teasing or taunting. it was all hatred and bitterness here. looming over her, his eyes pierced her, searching. "one reason."[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 1588 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, is it weird i notice some sexual tension? xD sorry about the lateness and g-moding. i can change if you wiiish.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Jan 23, 2011 10:30:37 GMT -6
- - - - - -
…it was a curious thing, to wonder and dream of the past. something that occupied bella's mind time and time again was the past that never happened, the past she'd prevented. it was a past that would be mundane, but happy. how would she have been different, how would anything have been different? what if she had sat their quietly and gone to her mother's funerals and worn black and mourned. what if she'd stayed with her sister and her grandparents and never left. her father would still be alive. she had, after all, been the cause of his death. did she feel guilty about it? not in the slightest, and that almost worried her, like she'd lost touch with her humanity since she chose to travel down the darker path. she was not isabella teixeira anymore. she was bella rovens. it could have been different though, all she would have had to do was call her grandparents and cry after it happened, after the murder, but she didn't. she left, and she hunted. she became a predator. or, dare she think it, what would be the outcome had her father actually loved her mother, or herself for that matter. what if he would have visited them, what if he had embraced bella's fiestiness along with paolo's determination and aria's poise. what if he hadn't been a greedy, two-timing, son of a bitch... basically. her mother never would have died. she never would have run. he never would have died. she never would have gotten involved with the mafias. they could have been a family, something bella had never really considered. her family, she considered it, was her mother, aria, and her grandparents... and paolo sometimes. but never her father. there were so many "what if's" to wonder about in her past, so many mistakes.
…and then that always brought bella to wonder what she would go back and change. maybe her father's affections? maybe her chasing down the murderer of her mother? or maybe she would choose for her mother to have never been killed. isabella loved her mother, she'd been her best friend. that and that alone was the only thing from the dark ages she would go back and change given the opportunity. she would take on the consequences that came from her mother's life a thousand fold if that meant she still got to live. bella loved her job, and she really was truly content with the way things had turned out, the way they'd ended up. it wasn't that she was unhappy with her life, with her occupation, with the few friends and allies she managed to have... but she had really cared for her mom. i mean, is it really necessary to have to explain? it was her mother. not to mention she gae life to bells, so it was only natural that should owe that gift back. that really was, probably, the only thing she would change if she'd been given a time machine and was told "do whatever you want." that, and that alone.
…actually, that's a lie. she might travel to the date, time, and place that james devon collins was born, steal him from his mom, and give him to a catholic church to become a monk. i mean really, does the world need anybody in it that is more demented than bella? no, it doesn't. it's pretty much crossing the line. and a ton of people would probably be grateful to her if she did it - lives saved, tortures spared. she'd become a fucking hero of the nations, worshipped like a queen. hell, she'd probably win the nobel peace prize for it. oh yeah, she was definitely sure now. yes, he'd probably be a corrupt monk since he was born with that brain, but haven't you heard those rumors and stories? they'd probably drag him down into some catacombs and beat him senseless until he was ready to be a faithful little priest monk guy, whatever the hell catholic men are. it made her want to laugh and smile and be eternally happy, the thought of the pope underground, beating jamie with his big golden pope stick. the rest of the world would laugh and giggle too, or the rest of this present day world, the world where people knew who jamie was. he was like the grim reaper, he showed up on your doorstep and you had permission to yell every dirty word known to man in front of a five year old. a rep. like that must not be something to be proud of. can you imagine just being hated and feared? bella couldn't. but then again, she didn't really fear mister collins. sure, there was some hate in there, but no fear. and she thought that with all honesty. nobody really scared her, though she was a little freaked out by spiders.
…bella rolled her eyes when he spoke, her regal english accent against his ugly russian one. she smiled snarkily at him when he made an attempt at insulting her, "oh dear me, a coward?" she skipped about, not really having her guard up. it was too early in this meeting to really start worrying about trying. "james, you must be able to think of something better than that." she shrugged, a little curious as to why he just stood there. she was kind of expecting him to lunge and punch her in her perfect nose, which would piss her the hell off, mind you. it was so weird to be talking with this man who she hadn't seen in years, and she hadn't seen under quite... strange circumstances. he was a little indoctrinated minion though, mindless killing, does as he's told, even if it's by a brazilian antichrist named mario. she raised her eyebrows when he'd given her a sharp question, and then her lips spread into a mischeivous smile, "oh me oh my, do i need to remind you?" she bit her lip, trying to not laugh. god, she really was just trying to screw with his head, to piss him off. it was a strange little pastime of hers, "you expressed some confidence in a nice, cozy little bedroom once." she raised her eyebrows up and down, still holding in the laughter. oh, she hated to remember it, but she figured he hated it even more since that seemed to be a key characteristic with him: hate.
…and then it came, the move she'd been expecting earlier but had totally forgotten in the midst of her teasing. oh, how she hated him with the fiery passion of hades. she refused to do what he was doing though, the cold abhoring looks and expressions. he was used to that, he expected that. yeah, it may be exactly what isabella wanted to do at the time, but she would not. she was thinking of what would piss off jamie more, what would annoy him, and happy go-lucky taunting seemed a better bet than listless hatred. she felt his hand around her neck, his body restraining her's. she cursed herself in her head, "mmm, couldn't handle not being close to me again?" she snorted, and then hearing his threat she grinned even wider, "one reason! god, you're stupid." she searched his face for a flicker of emotion, but if there was any it was much too complex for her to care for deciphering it, "i can give you a million reason. one, mario can't marry a dead girl. my colleague has informed me that he's specifically requested me alive," dear old syl, miss partner in crime. she was a ton of help when she wasn't a raging bitch, "and you, you little mindless soldier, you can't not follow an order, can you? i'm shocked if you can." and then her expression warmed ever so slightly, "and ksenia. don't you think she would like to speak to me? or kill me herself, i don't know. but do you really want to live with her nagging you the rest of your life about how you killed me?" she shrugged as best she could under his grasp, though it mostly just looked like she was breathing. and then she let out a deep breath, softening her expression and looking into his cold eyes, "and jamie," she said, her voice serious. she looked upward, away from him, her goal to make it look like she was about to get emotional and cry, "i-i..." she forced her voice to sound choked up. and then she thrust her head forward.
…"i've always wanted to do that!" she finished her sentence, her forehead crashed into his and she could feel his grip loosen, which was enough for her to slide out of his grasp and across the room. but as soon as she got there she pulled off her bini and threw it at him, rubbing her head, "fuck you!" she yelled, "fuck me! damn it! nobody wins with a headbutt!" she squirmed a little at the throbbing pain in her head. stupid move, but effective, right? she forced herself into a quicker recovery than she'd like and stood there across the room, ready for whatever he planned to do. he was stronger, true, but she was agile and had the advantage of surprise. nobody generally knew what to expect from her. she forced a tight smile, "how do you like me now, bitch?"
status•finished.
tagged•jellie freaking bean.
comments•ha! if you don't like that at all, well yeah... i can change it. lol.
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Jan 28, 2011 2:37:22 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] - - - HE HAD NEVER [/b][/font] been one to refuse an order. never. even growing up, all he had known was taking someone else's direction. someone else's orders. that's how he was raised. that seemed to be the position his father deemed perfect for him. the moment jamie turned eighteen and could legally own a gun (we like to keep most things legal, thanks) he was ordered to use it. that was the day of his first kill, you know. his birthday. september 7th, 1994. happy birthday. from that day, the numbers only grew. it didn't matter the time or the place, situation or circumstance, he shot when he was told to. he tortured when he was told to. he bleached rooms, dug graves, burnt palms - all when he was told to. that was all he was trained for. impressive in action, less impressive when studied. all he did was clean up other people's messes. oh and kill people the big bad mafia boss didn't feel like wasting a bullet on. of course he had to follow orders to annoyingly obsessive perfection. he really didn't know anything else. five years and countless bodies had told him of the rewards that came with following orders. why is it so cool to not obey? seriously. all it does is cause waves and someone ends up dying. usually at the hands of yours truly. between you and me, there have been more than a few wanna-be rebels he's had to permanently cancel. four were irish, two were american. he didn't care about them. it was the three russian lives he'd had to take because they thought they could outrun the organization. those were the blank, pale faces that haunted him every night. just watching as the bullet sliced through the air, and ripped into their skulls at five hundred miles an hour was enough to make him cooperate. even if he wanted, trying to rebel against the russian mafia is the equivilant to phoning up an assassin and asking them to kill you. it never works. he knew that. how many times had someone - informant, target, enemy, whoever - thought they'd gotten away and just started to breath easy when they saw jamie in their rearview mirror? that's when they knew it was over. james collins showing up, alone, is the well-known symbol that you're going to die soon. he followed orders so blindly because he knew, if he didn't, someone was going to show up and torture him for days before killing him. that's the game that you play. it could very easily be someone else showing up in the rearview mirror to pull the final trigger. he was an easily replaceable soldier. so, you know what five years and countless bodies has told him? the rewards of following orders means that he got to stay alive. he knew all of this. right at the back of his mind, lurking near the top of his ignoring things pile. finding some trigger-happy sociopath is not difficult. finding one as articulate and careful as jamie, well, that's extremely difficult. he doubted anyone in the world had a him. maybe. but he'd never met anyone quite as cold as he could be. once the gun went in his hand, everything else was rendered useless. he had a job to do, and he was going to do it perfectly. at first, he had done what he was told because that's how he had been raised. exactly what dad said, it's what he was good at. "you can clean up messes like no one else, jamie." that's what he always said. everything was a compliment. it was only recently didn't jamie actually realize it was spraying a pretty perfume over the truth. he was training his son into a cold-hearted killer because he couldn't do anything else. he didn't have the independence like pierce, to head entire operations. and he didn't have temperance's firey potential, to do whatever the fuck she wanted to do. he was jamie - the one who could clean up the mess. he played the game because that's how he had been trained. he played because it kept him alive. but he also played because he seemed to like it. it was just invalids like bella rovens here who seemed to think differently. how many times a day didn't he hear her familiar jeers? everyone said that. mindless soldier. brainless, soulles puppy dog. they were many colorful variations out there. but, again, who cares? he's the one with the respect and the deadly reputation. who was she? some blackmarket lurker who thought she could play the game with the professionals? that's certainly how she seemed to see it. he remained neutral as she danced and teased and generally let her guard down. see? that was her weakness. she got too caught up in her game to remember who was more dangerous. "i'm not trying to entertain you, bells. i'm not even trying to play your game." the irrational side of him wanted to punch her right there and then. he hated being mocked, especially like this. but, remember five years and countless bodies? he knew better than that. it was just so fucking frustrating. she clearly didn't feel threatened by him, and he hadn't responded in any way to make her think she should be. so she was this comfortable with him already? to make snarky jeers about the past. he scoffed lightly, putting his hands on his hips. he'd rather forget that night. don't react, remember. do. not. react. he merely flared his nostrils at her words, growing flushed. fuck. he felt the red creeping onto his face. "that's not what you told everyone the next day." his words were quiet, neutral. he honestly didn't remember anything about that day other than humiliation. his reddening face was proof enough of that. it was immensely satisfying to pin her against the wall, to feel her blood flow beneath his fingers. a part of him, a big part of him, wanted to break her neck and be done with that. but it was against better judgement. and he'd get in a world of shit if anyone found out. which only made her immature taunting the more frustrating. it was a new tactic of hers, it seemed. and it bothered the hell out of him. especially since he refused to play her game - and the fact he couldn't. all he could do was scoff and blush. moving closer to her face, he looked at her with his steel-eyed gaze, hatred dancing brightly. ”i thought you did your homework. i don’t care what mario’s requested. do you really think the brazillians don’t answer to the russians? alliance or not, we own you people. his words were soft again, barely audible. but it was the truth. he knew the russians greater agenda, and it didn’t involve answering to brazil. his orders were to actually bring her in alive, but that was because his people requested it. and yes, it was probably because mario did and they wanted to be nice. but he knew there was no power struggle in that relationship. it was nice to know things were the opposite what she seemed to believe. satisfying. "and you, you little mindless soldier, you can't not follow an order, can you? i'm shocked if you can."well, until that. his gaze grew colder at her words, anger implementing his actions. ”you. you don’t know anything about me.” driving his elbow into her stomach harshly, unaware of the result, he pressed against her harder. ”don’t even think of bringing ksenia into this. you’ll find yourself dying a lot sooner if you do.” he was flushed again, the hatred apparent on his face. steel eyes were replaced with gleaming anger, a cold sweat quickly appearing on his forehead. it was fucking stupid, but he knew she was right. fuck. he thought too much. that’s what his problem is. bring one person up, and he was distracted. fuck again. he didn’t even see her headbutt coming. triple fuck. he swore loudly, stumbling back more than he’d like. his mind had been too preoccupied with whatever shit she’d dealt him to notice her physical actions. it’d been a long time since someone got under his skin that easily. a weakness no one actually knew about. the moment jamie collins gets flushed and sweaty, the moment he gets distracted and loses all his hold on the situation. clutching his nose, eyes shut tight, jamie swore again. fuck. there was a reason he only dealt from a distance, with a gun. her words made it clear she suffered the same damage. well, good. recovering, he pushed the pain into the back of his mind. a bruise would surface later. by the time he’d lost the dizziness, she’d retreated across the room. good choice. ”that’s funny.” he was quickly finding the entire situation equal to jumping off a building. he’d take the building. pushing up the sleeve of his leather jacket, he slowly approached her. haphazardly. she was going down. dead or alive, he didn’t really care. ”so, tell me,” he stopped moving for a moment. instead, he back up casually, hands in his pockets. it was his feet that were doing the working, feeling around in the darkness for his gun. ”why haven’t you killed me yet?” more small talk. new plan to buy enough time to find his gun.[/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 1593 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, ahh, sorry about the lame ending. idk how else to end it. xD
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Feb 5, 2011 20:31:55 GMT -6
- - - - - -
…it was totally random, her decision to settle in valkyrie. she'd been there before, but not really paying attention to the name of the town or the people. she'd worked with allegra, and met maggie, and that was really all that had happened in her visit. all she knew about the place was that it was somewhere near los angeles. when she'd rolled into valkyrie, bleeding from a bullet wound and weak, she hadn't really known it was valkyrie. she just knew some town had a massive earthquake and she could get by unnoticed. in fact, it'd been so long since her visit that she probably wouldn't have remembered the name of the city even if she'd wanted to. so she arrived, unknowing, and uncaring, got her shit together and showed up in the hospital, and was surprised by allegra. it was only then that she realized she was in the same place, and decided she may stick around, even settle, for a while. it was weird to stay here though, to be in a place for longer than a few days. sure, in mexico she had a "headquarters" per se, but she was rarely there for more than a week, always travelling. but she'd decided to stay in valkyrie, and she was becoming restless just thinking about staying. but she wanted to. it was nice to be a friend, to have one, for the first time in months. since ksenia, really. it was expected that she'd feel comfortable with an ally.
…what she hadn't expected, however, was to run into the darker sides of her past. this assumption was foolish, really, considering she'd already found herself at odds with one of mario's own men, so why not his allies too? especially so close to los angeles, which was a big city and that meant possible american bases for the mafias. but jamie? was life fucking serious? brazilian cohorts, she could handle them. she knew how they trained, how their minds worked. they were easy. the russians, however? she was familiar, but she wasn't positive, not like she was with the brazilians. jamie wasn't predictable unless she was aware of his orders, which she was only vaguely aware of, thanks to syl rivers. but what if he didn't have specific orders? then she hadn't a clue in heaven or hell what he would do. what did a robot do when it was programmed to have it's own will? what did a slave do when he was free? she couldn't be too positive, and that meant she had to keep on her toes. it was just her luck she'd run into him though.
…then again, it was better than running into mario himself, or ksenia even. mario would have been brutal, and maybe even a little frightening at the right time and in the right situation. bella would have danced circles around him, but she wouldn't stand her ground. she'd leave, go somewhere random, maybe nebraska. it was a game she played, evading him, and she enjoyed it in a twisted way. but if he caught her, god, she couldn't even imagine what'd happen. he was a demented son of a bitch, she would have expected the worse. and ksenia, well, that just would have been emotionally awkward. how would she have reacted? how does she even feel? would she attack, accuse, fight? be happy? bella hadn't a clue in the world. she knew ksenia ten times better than jamie when they'd still been friends, and yet she felt running into ksenia would have been much less predictable. and then there was the thought that if jamie was here, ksenia probably was too. it was probably just luck she'd run into jamie, somebody she did not like rather than somebody she once did. she couldn't even imagine having to fight ksenia if it came down to it. it was just, well, something she'd rather avoid. so yes, while she'd been dealt horseshit cards, she was particularly grateful that they weren't as bad as they could have been.
…bella knit her eyebrows together, irritated and doing her best to hide it behin her snarky remarks and go-lucky facade. she had to win this battle by tricking him. she couldn't run, because he was near the closest exit, and he'd probably catch her. she couldn't really fight, because he was focused, he was stronger, and he would win. she had to get his attention, to emotionally distract the king of cold. she rolled her eyes, laughing bitterly, "what game?" she questioned, sounding dubious and innocent. she gave him her toothy grin, biting her lip. her remark about their one shared night, a mistake, no doubt. bella held in her chuckle when she noticed the difference in his expression, in the shade of his skin. she was getting to him, and that meant she was going to win this war. he spoke, and she could hold in the chuckle no more. it was mocking, but she tried her best to keep that out of it, "oh james," she began, eyeing him suspiciously, "why would i have told anybody the truth? then they'd all want a piece of you." she shrugged like she was talking about something as casual as the weather. it really didn't bother her to talk about it, she was kind of shameless. yes, it'd be better if it didn't involve him, but at this point she wasn't going to be picky. it was necessary to get herself out of this inconvenient little predicament.
…isabella glared at jamie totally annoyed. she glared at him the whol time he was talking, and then turned it into a tight smile, her eyes dark and bitter. there was somewhat of an amused expression playing with her visage, "are you an idiot?" she simply asked. she shook her head in disbelief, "you people? you think i was one of them? i'm more british than brazilian, asshole. i'm better than they are. why would i care if the russians control them? it doesn't mean they want to burn bridges. what is a king without followers?" her words reaked of deception and reason. no matter how much she didn't agree with what she said, it was true. and hell, she thought her little analogy was pretty damn good too. she breathed into his face, tempted to spit in it but holding back, "oh jamie, but i know you. i do. i know how people like you work, i've been working with them for the past three years. my own brother is like you, only he's on a good side of the law." that was unexpected, she hadn't spoken of her brother in... years. she ignored that though, and grunted as he elbowed her in the stomach, rolling forward just slightly and laughing with a sort of dementia that turned into a cough, "so testy tonight, aren't we?" she rasped, smiling. and then when he got defensive about ksenia, she only snickered, "why not? i'm sure she'd want to be brought into this. and you kill me without her consultation, i'm sure she isn't going to be happy. so go ahead, do your worst." she had him now, she could tell, and that was why when she put the last piece of her plan into action, he was totally caught off guard and released his grasp on her, allowing her to prance away with her aching skull.
…she hadn't expected the pulsating pain in her head. the plan, apparently, hadn't been thought through all that well. and yet she couldn't think of a better way it could have gone. he let her go, she got away. the only downside? he had a fucking hard ass head! she forced herself over it though, functioning. and then she heard his comment, and she couldn't help but laugh hysterically. she probably seemed like a lunatic, "it was pretty damn funny, actually," she gasped, shaking her head. oh, lord almighty, she hated him. he became neutral again though, and spoke, his hands in his pockets. that immediately made bella more cautious and alert. why would he do that? especially after what she'd just done to him? there was no way that would have happened, it wasn't even logical. she watched him, and slightly noticed his feet. but his question caught her off guard. she stared at him, her expression somber, "jamie... i'm not a killer." she said, confused. she shook her head. yes, she had killed before, but not because she was told to, not because she wanted to, but because she had to... "i... i'm not like you."
…his comment left her a little baffled, but she realized she couldn't trust him. she need to get out before he pulled a gun and shot her square in the forehead or broke her neck, and she couldn't do that like this, dancing around him. she rushed at him, planning to dodge around him, but last minute found that would be impossible, and instead just swung at him. he reacted just as quickly, and so the hand on hand battle began. the only advantage she'd had over him was that she was faster, but he had the strength. she attempted to deal blows to his face, groin, abdomen, whatever. everytime he hit her square, she'd dance backwards to recover but get back at him again. he was beating her though, she could feel it. she wasn't giving up, and she couldn't help but keep fighting. she was a fighter. he got her then, right in the stomach, hard. it was the worst one she'd gotten yet, and she hunched over, spitting onto the ground. she couldn't do this. so as sh hunched over, she swiftly stuck her hand into her boot, and pulled out the gun, whipping upward and pointing it at him, "we done here?" she panted, her eyes dark. she was angry now, and she just wanted to go home. she probably wouldn't go there right away, but to the hospital to speak with allegra, or anywhere for that matter. she didn't want to be followed to her apartment. but this night needed to end. she'd come out here minding her own business. had she seen jamie, she wouldn't hunt him down like an animal.... this was his doing. his fault.
status•finished.
tagged•jellie freaking bean.
comments• bahaha! the end doesn't make sense. but you can continue onto the plot and her getting all tied up and shizz from there, or that's what we planned, right? and i can change anything you don't like about the last part. i know i kinda rushed it :[
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Mar 7, 2011 1:34:47 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] ,IT WAS RARE to get personally involved in something. this lifestyle, it was better to keep a distance. haven't you learned that by now? his entire life, jamie had been taught to keep a tight circle, and not to look beyond that. there were people you could trust, keepy them close. but you shouldn't, trust them. not completely. at the end of the day, the only person who has complete faith in you is just that - you. you never know if your closest confidant is going to get cold feet at the last second, or go rogue, or hand you over to them. it only takes one more taken life for someone to go cold. just how many people had he seen turn to stone? a daughter killed, a best friend murdered, a damn drowned puppy. people have certain triggers that send them on the path to darkness. there is no such thing as redemption, so might as well have fun on the ride to hell. he, personally, had lost three or four trusted friends to that road. when you honestly don't give a shit anymore, you get careless. you get caught up with emotion and forget to be cautious. you get messy. two of them had been carted off to life sentences, the others had gotten themselves killed. you can't let yourself get personally involved, because someone is going to end up dead. each and every time.
the ones who have nothing left to lose are the closest confidants. it's always a chain reaction that create this monster. it's little at first. a broken connection, a betrayal. you put too much trust in people, even your own circle. and that came back to burn you. that's when you get angry. when fury is in the picture, you let yourself get involved in other things. you call your daughter, because you miss her. you let your own best friend into your circle. it's when you let the people closest to you get involved that people wind up murdered in an alley. and then it's the gateway to emotion. you let yourself care about people, your assignments. you don't pull the trigger because he has a family, a life. you let them get away because, although they're your worst enemy, they are so hopelessly in love. you don't do your job because you think about more than it being just that - your job. you get burned again. by your own people, your family. they bust you up the wall for being sloppy. someone almost died because of you. one more mess up and the daughter you love so much is the next tragedy scrolling across cnn. brutally executed, left out in the open to send a message. and that is when you truly have nothing left to lose. he had seen some, heard of many, who had set off this reaction and wound up dead or in prison. you don't think it will happen to you, but it always does.
he couldn't get personally involved. not even in this.
true, he hated isabella rovens. and true, he wouldn't mind taking her life. but she was one more loose end he had never tied up. they had a history, a level of emotion shared. that's his definition of personally involved. she was not some faceless nobody to him. turning her in, killing her, that would all have some deeper meaning he really didn't want to think about. even if he pulled the trigger, he wouldn't do it blankly. it would mean something. "you people? you think i was one of them?" there she went again, bringing up the past. bringing more emotion and meaning crap into this entire fucked situation. his face remained stone, the cruelty gleaming in his eyes. it was the scoff that highlighted his amusement. "you are no better than anyone else. i don't care what you call yourself, you associated yourself with them. which means you're dirt, just like them. and don't even think you're better than i am." he had played this game for a long time. it didn't matter if you were raised, initiated or some fucking traitor, loyalty was the end of the day. it was more important than anything else. "it's called loyalty." even though all of this talking, he remained pressed right up against her, willing his fingers to tighten around her jugular. it was better, having this physical advantage over her. but it also meant bella here had a perfect view of every emotion that crossed his face. it was fucking stupid. five words from this insignificant weapons dealer, and he was displaying more than he had in the past two years. he continued to sweat the cold sweat, continued to struggle with his fury. "don't tempt me." he couldn't find the right words, the right threat. the logical solution was to snap her neck right here and be done with this entire mess. but she had him. she'd successfully crawled under his skin and made him shiver. he told himself to shut the fuck up, but he also knew he was right - she had won.
the punishment was plesant. she was suffering of the same pulsating vibration around his skull. the combination of wanting to win, and her outburst of hysterical laughter was enough to make the pain pass. he chose not to reply. an exchange of anymore personal words and he would definitely snap her neck. this inexperienced, egotistical invalid had the power to get under his skin without a second thought. did she struggle to continue her facade? he knew she did. there were a few times the emotion lingered in her eyes, warning her not to break. he warned himself not to break. it was difficult, to push all emotion aside and retain the casual demeanour he was known for. the ice-blooded jamie collins, who made casual conversation and exchanged a few laughs before pulling a surprise trigger. that was the person he needed to be right now, should have been all along. "jamie... i'm not a killer." her expression had changed entirely, her body seeming to deflate. so she had broken. these were the first genuine words she had spoken this entire night. and all they did was make him smile sardonically. ""i... i'm not like you." he pulled his jacket tighter around his slight frame, the same taunting smirk echoing his words. "no, no you aren't like me." he paused his pacing, moving his eyes to look right at her. "you are a whole level of sick. i do what i do because that's my life, my loyalties.. you do what you do to keep yourself out of the fire. for pleasure." his words were cold, stone cold. unfeeling, unemotional; just harsh, maybe somewhat sickened.
he wished it could have been over right then. words had been exchanged, threats taken to light. each had shot an emotional bullet that hit right on target. it had even been borderline civilized, with no blood being spilt. he would have been satisfied with that. but when she lunged at him, the satisfaction turned to blood lust. he wanted to see her ruby-red tears stain the dirty concrete. his reflexed mirrored hers, never leaving enough time for weakness. she danced around him while he remained stationed, hands at the defence. everytime her foot made contact with her stomach, he wanted to collapse. everytime her fist connected with his head, he wanted to spit out the blood. instead, everytime she triumphed in a hit, he came back harder. she had her speed and easy reflexes. he had been gifted with strength that easily overpowered her. natural selection. sorry, girls. the final blow belonged to him, jamie. a clean hit to her stomach, more powerful than anything before. it was her who collapsed first, broken down. she was clutching her abdomen when he backed up, spitting the blood onto the ground. she had succeeded in hurting him, too. blood was leaking from his nose, a few bruises were already surfacing on his face and neck. no doubt there would be more on his torso. he was looking down, clutching his head with one hand when he heard the click. the strain was apparent on her face, but he wasn't focusing on that. he couldn't. he was too preoccupied eyeing the gun she was no aiming directly at him. "we done here?" for a split second, his eyes drifted to her, watching her lips move as she spoke. "not a chance in hell." it was one swift movement - his two steps toward her, grabbing the barrel, and pulling her toward him. a bullet discharged from the weapon, striking the ground with a hollowing bang of defeat. he chose not to flinch, but held her closer. he raised one elbow and struck the side of her head, watching as the life leaked from her eyes. beathing heavily, jamie stepped back, letting her unconcious body fall to the ground. a movie would have directed he say something witty at this point. but all he did was glare down at bella rovens before he set off to work again.
finding a chair that actually stood with the difficult feat. obtaining the rope was the easy one. he easily fit her body on the wooden surface of the chair. handling her like that made him realize she was a touch too thin, if he could move her with such ease. james collins is not the strongest of them all. securing the thick rope around her wrists and ankles, tying them just a little too tightly, he backed up again. his breathing was heavy. discarding the leather jacket and sweater he'd been wearing, remaining in a white t-shirt, he pushed his hair from his sweaty forehead. the blood from his nose had pooled down the lower side of his face, caking to his pale flesh. the bruises she'd delivered were surfaced, shining brightly in the little light provided. but he didn't pay attention to any of that. he had a job to do, and he was going to do it. how wasn't the question. picking up the forgotten firearm, he clutched the grip tightly. it felt awkward under his fingers, unaccustomed to the shape. where in fuck was his gun? heaving one last breath, jamie shot at the ground right next to bella, allowing the noise to echo loudly. "morning, sunshine." squatting right in front of the chair, jamie looked directly at bella as she grunted, approaching conciousness. "i want to know a few things, and you're going to tell me them. no more fighting. you know i'll kill you without a second thought. you are going to tell me what i want to know." his tone was grim, almost satisfied. he even smiled, teeth shining through the red crust covering his half his face. "just make it easy on yourself." [/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 1817 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, holy fuckmonkeys this is late. i'm sorry. D: i hope everything sounded okay?
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Mar 13, 2011 1:15:55 GMT -6
- - - - - - …It was amazing, how much one’s life could change, how Isabella Ambrosia, granddaughter of John Abberley, to Bella Rovens, gunrunner. It was a fall from grace, a long, hard fall. Ten years ago, Bella was attending a private school in London. She was surrounded by girls, best friends with her sister, going to prestigious events, meeting the Queen, partying with Princes, punching out her sister’s sleaze bag boyfriends, going to lunches wit her mother, being bragged of by her grandmother, and getting those goodnight kisses every night from her grandfather. It was a life worth envying, a life she sometimes missed. Back then, Bella had been genuinely happy with her life, she’d been perfectly and blissfully unaware of the troubles, the crime world. She was just the feisty rich girl with a pretty face. That was all she ever needed from her life, all she ever wanted. Granted, looking back on it now, it didn’t seem that great. Bella Rovens did not envy Isabella Ambrosia’s lifestyle. She found it trivial and boring, but part of her, and a significant part of her, would love to go back to that and leave all the drama and craziness of her current life behind. That could never happen though, never again. Not since the day she walked in to see her mother, bloody and lifeless on the floor, a man with cruel eyes standing over her. Not since she’d allowed that untamed animal inside to take over and she’d killed her mother’s murderer. That wasn’t even the worst of her crimes since that day… at least that had been in self defense. She’s become darker after that day, more vindictive. All she’d craved after that first blood spilt was revenge, a sadistic need to get back at her father for tearing her life apart. That was still Isabella Ambrosia, though, she’d still been her old self, just a confused, lustful version. The real change happened after she abandoned her previous life. After she left her remaining family in London, allowing them to all think she was kidnapped and possibly murdered. She’d escaped to Brazil, and gotten herself involved with the mafia there. She still couldn’t decide if that was a mistake or not, but the minute she sold her father out to the mafia, the moment she let them torture and kill him, that was the moment Isabella Ambrosia died. That was when she ceased to exist. And as if to make it more official, her family back in London even had a funeral for her. Sometimes it broke her heart to think about everybody she loved once; her grandparents, her siblings, the rest of her family, her friends… all of them standing around a gravestone with her name on it. She didn’t love those people anymore though. The way she saw it, she changed completely, maybe not for the better, but it was irrevocable now. Isabella Ambrosia didn’t exist anymore. After she’d sold out her father, Bella had been accepted into the Brazilian mafia by their don, Stefano Ferreira, with open arms. He’d treated her like a daughter, probably because he’d taken an immediate liking to the girl who was so deceitful she would give up her own father for revenge. Either way, he allowed her amongst their ranks, and every now and again he even let her go on a mission that was outside of a typical woman’s job. She’d met people, others who were allied with the Brazilians, people such as Ksenia and Jamie. The girl became skilled in the art of artillery, even something of a “trigger-happy idiot” as she’d once been called. The only downside to her new life was Mario, Stefano’s unruly son. He’d always been overly persistent, a charming womanizer, and incredibly fucking annoying. Bella had never been able to handle him; everything about that boy set her on edge, struck and nerve with her. He was the most infuriating human being on the planet, but she dealt with it. She’d actually made more friends outside the Brazilians, and by more friends, she meant one friend. And that was Ksenia. She wasn’t sure Jamie had ever been her friend, exactly, but they’d been on decent terms, though he was almost as nearly infuriating as Mario. Just, better. Not to mention he was quite possibly the sexiest creature alive, or so her poor, naïve, little mind believed back in the day. Those alliances didn’t last long, though. Stefano died, and that was when things went to hell. Mario usurped the throne of the mafia, and he decided he could be a douchelord of a kind, and demanded Bella become his wife. His wife. Can you just see it? His little wife. Well no siree was Bella going to consent to that, but she didn’t realize a rejection meant a death sentence, and that required a bit more cunning to get herself out of. She played along with his plots and plans for a couple months, and on the wedding day she left dim-witted Mario standing at the altar, humiliated by all his mafia bros and hoes. Bella up and left, killing two of his men who’d grown suspicious of her, and stealing a good portion of his money and merchandise. Dear lord, did she piss him off, but it was worth it. Her first stop was Mexico, and she managed to get her business up and running, using the connections she’d made during the mafia, building herself a decent reputation, and made quite a bit of cash as a freelancer. All good things must come to an end though, and Mario eventually found her out, and she was forced to escape to Los Angeles, where one of his goons followed her anyway and she took a good gunshot to the abdomen. She ended up killing that guy two, making him number four on her list, but it was all self-defense, right? So that was how she ended up in Valkyrie, being fixed up by Allegra Mancini, and then body shopping, and finding herself face to face with Jamie Collins, who she hadn’t seen since her days with those damn Brazilian bozos. Bella Rovens had never been the grudge-holding type, not when she had no emotional connections to the said person. Her father was a special case. He was, after all, the man who donated half of his DNA to her, and then he paid to have her mother murdered. It was a screwed up series of events, but she couldn’t help it, and she couldn’t change it. She got her revenge, and that was that. Everybody else, though? She had no grudges, not really. If Mario decided to leave her alone, she’d be perfectly okay with that. It’d be the end of it. If her brother really did know she’d set up her father to be taken by the mafia, and he let it go, she’d be okay with that too. She wished people could just forgive and forget, though nothing was ever that simple. The stupid part of this whole situation was that she’d never done anything specifically to Jamie Collins. She never hurt him, never stole from him. Unless he was madly in love with her, which she was totally positive he wasn’t, she’d never done anything to break his heart or something. Sure, they did the between-the-sheets-tango, but that was a one-time mistake, and basically the next day Mario was asking for her hand in marriage. From what she’d understood, he didn’t even like the Brazilians all too much, so really, why should he care what she did to them? A better question, however, was could you expect anything less from a robot? ”Oh shut up, you self righteous moron. If you think so little of them, leave me alone. You’re no better than a dumb bitch, wrapped around the finger of some white trash pimp.” Yeah, compare him to a hooker, hopefully that would be annoying, because her goal was definitely to keep him irritated. She shrugged carelessly, like this conversation was tiring to her, ”Loyalty is for shmucks. Its an excuse for the weak minded to not make their own decisions,” coughing flagrantly, she added ”James.” His fingers were so tightly clenched around her throat that she knew there would be some bruises their in the morning. She loved being close enough to smell his sweat though, because she could see the ferocity and vehemence rolling off his face. She was elated to realize she was having such a huge effect on him. It gave her a sense of power. It was a little unsettling that with one fluid motion from his hands, he could end her life. It would all be over. He wouldn’t do it though. As much as Jamie Collins hated it, Bella knew him, she knew him well enough to make these sorts of confident predictions about him, and right now she was one hundred percent positive he wasn’t going to kill her. She’d made too many arguments against him, logical arguments, not to mention that he would never not be able to follow orders. James was the epitome of irrationality, but when it came to a superior giving him an order, he was like putty in their hands, waiting to be molded into any shape they pleased. The impact of their heads meeting with such sudden force wasn’t a good feeling, but it was worth it. She’d rather be in pain away from him than under his control, having him pressed against her fragile frame, controlling her every move. At least now she had a fighting chance to get away from this crazy, mindless soldier. She continued her charade of nonchalance and mock foolery, still with the intentions of keeping him unfocused. It wasn’t until his surprising comment that she let the walls down a bit. It was like he’d hit her right in the gut, a blow to her heart. She was still human, Bella. Jamie, on the other hand, sometimes she’d wondered if he’d even hand a glimmer of emotion, real, genuine emotion left in him. She felt remorse and uncertainty. His words cut her close to home though, cut her with thoughts she sometimes stayed up at night torturing herself with. She always came to the same conclusion, though. She avenged her mother, she was not a necessarily horrid person, but she was darker. When he claimed she did it for pleasure, that was when he lost her. A giggle erupted from her flushed lips, ”Oh, so you’re an angel, are you? A saint? A Gandhi prodigy? You do it for loyalty, so that makes your sick, twisted lifestyle okay?” she looked down, shaking her head, light laughter escaping from her catty grin, ”I’m not making excuses for myself, James. I’ve done wrong, but I do it justifiably. I do it to people who had wronged me too.” she shrugged, pacing across from him, her hands daintily folded across her chest. Why did he have to show up here? All she’d wanted to do was mind her own business, to come here and find things worth stealing. She was nursing her insomnia with this little event she’d decided to pursue, and all it’d gotten her was a run in with the devil. Actually, no. Jamie didn’t have enough thought of his own to be the devil. He was more like a satanic spawn, but either way it wasn’t a good thing. He was the bane of her existence, or at least that was how she felt at the moment. Why did he have to come and ruin her perfectly neutral night? And all this fighting was going to leave her high and dry, and unfortunately for her she hadn’t really though through her current condition when she charged at him. Her bullet wound wasn’t even entirely healed yet, so how did she expect to beat James Collins in a fight? Wasn’t he infamous for his abilities… or something like that. In hindsight, bad idea. The punches and kicks they each were throwing in each other’s direction were harsh and powerful, hers more quick-paced, while his were back by force. She knew she’d have some bruises and a black eye to represent her anything but picturesque lifestyle. The blow he’d give her abdomen was the worst though. It was near her gunshot wound, and she could feel the stitches ripping. Damn it, Allegra was going to be pissed when she had to sew it back up. Hopefully it didn’t bleed too bad though. It was at that point that Bella realized she wasn’t going to win this physical battle. She had a hole in her side, if you wanted to get technical, and that left her at more of a disadvantage than usual. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been beaten so badly, and by a man who she’d never directly wronged, nonetheless. He was like a mirror to her every moved, a perfect reflection. She definitely had gotten in less blows than he had, but at least the ones she’d dealt had been fairly effective. Regrettably on her part, she’d done much less. The gun had to be pulled. She wasn’t sure she could shoot Jamie, now that it really came down to it. He definitely wasn’t at the top of “people I’d like to shoot” list, but if he didn’t back down, she’d do it, I swear to god, she’d do it. Otherwise he’d kill her, or worse, turn her over to the bastards she hated so much. ”Not a chance in hell.” she’d only had a few seconds to process those short words in her head, and as her lips parted to inquire, he cut her off with his graceful movement, fluidly removing the gun from her possession, and pulling her into his grip. She jumped a bit when the gun went off, scatter-brained with what had all just happened. Didn’t she have the upper hand only seconds ago? And then a sharp pain echoed through her skull, worse than before, and everything went black. - - - - - - Bang. She started suddenly at the sound, waking up from the nightmare she’d just had. Jamie, fighting, guns, threats. It was all so blurry, so fast, but it was nice to wake up, finally. And then she heard his voice, coaxing her out of her slumber. A disgruntled groan emerged from her lips, her eyes fluttering wildly. She wasn’t listening to a word he said, and even if she’d wanted to she wouldn’t have been able to focus on his speech. A loud ringing sound was vibrating through her ears, the ache and throbbing of the blow he’d applied to her head just before she’d black out was still very, very apparent. Finally her eyes began to focus on her surroundings, and she coughed up a few droplets of blood, becoming more and more aware of the pain in the different places of her body. The dampness on her side, bleeding through her close reminded her that he wound had been reopened. She finally noticed Jamie’s face, level to her as he squatted in front of her. Thrashing, she intended to hit him, but realized she was all tied up, totally helpless. A hysterical laughter broke out of her lips. It sounded like a mixture of giggles and crying in her head, but she was too groggy to really know what it sounded like, ”You are one ugly motherfucker,” she mumbled, glaring at him. It pleased her to see his face caked in blood. Obviously she’d gotten a good hit or two out of this. The sudden memory of putting the knife in her boot came back to her, and she snickered, sounding like she was suffering from severe dementia, ”Woo, hoo, hoo! I always knew you were kinky Jamie, but this? Isn’t this a little much?” she rolled her head around wildly. Part of her psychotic façade was her acting, but the majority of it was genuine deliriousness from the blow to her skull. She threw herself forward, her hair whipping about, ”Well go on then, sweetheart! Take a ride on Bella!” she giggled again, casually sliding her hand into her boot and fluidly moving the knife up and into her sleeve. Her body shot up erectly again, ”I take that back. Butt sex isn’t my style,” she grinned, wagging her head back and forth, looking like a kid who was given a dosage too much of Novocain.
status•finished.
tagged•jellie freaking bean.
comments• haha, hope its okay.
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Mar 24, 2011 14:46:43 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] ,PEOPLE SAID THINGS, a lot of things. it ran in the seedy underbelly of the corrupt world he lived in. underground, flowing along with the dirty sewage they pretended didn't exist. the things criminals did were unforgiveable. the worst kind of sin, if you preached about jesus and his weird necklace. but they pretended it was all okay, because that was the family business. what, you think someone runs a slaughter house because it's fun? no. criminals, even the russians, did ugly things. but they also acted as though they didn't act like the foul deeds they were just fine commiting. honor, loyalty, he had heard it all before. it's a worse sin to cheat with your best friend's wife than it is to kill somebody. you don't hurt a kid, but you can torture some old guy. there were lines, and people rarely crossed them. they acted like pure, upstanding citizens. but, you know, that was what jamie considered to be sewage. the waste that runs underneath, happily ignored. because, like every other world in life, there was the back-stabbing and the gossip, lies and betrayals. it was the unspoken way to ignore it, like the elephant in the room. but it was there. and people said more than enough about him.
the words that bella here preached were not unlike what everyone else said. he was ridiculed for it often. more than once, the young girls who had not quite gotten the message of "shut up" whispered and pointed. everyone else just made subtle hints, gleaming in their own wittiness. even the odd "of course you will" was not a boss being a douchenozzle. it was a boss knowing jamie collins would do anything for any superior. people said things, and he ignored them. pretended they didn't bother him. remain oblivious to the elephant in the room, just like everyone else. but they still said things. and it still bothered him from time to time. no human can be completely okay with taunting rumours circulating, not even him. it didn't help, either. when your nickname is suddenly "robot" or some other clever variation, you would embrace that. because people constantly staring you down with smarmy smirks shuts you down. it shut him down. even when bella remarked it, he shut down. his eyes would grow glassy, almost emotional. he'd show the hurt for about two seconds before the stone wall was brought back up. he grew even colder, the darkest point he had experienced. those were the times he could kill in cold blood, ignore any and all pleads and screams. he would envision the faces of everyone he had ever hated on these faceless victims. shoot them point-blank in the forehead, leave them dying on the sidewalk. it shut them up, for awhile at least. the lapdog reputation is easily destroyed by the cold-blooded killer reputation. it was ugly, but it was also true. all it took was for a few words from his "family" to drive him off the edge, to react in the worst way possible. not the begging or the bribes, but the grim satisfaction of killing someone he knew very well. when stuck in that icy haze, he fell deaf to the person in front of him. all he saw was someone he hated. bang bang. gone.
no one would know that. ever. it was his own inferiority issues that drove him to be so cold. how does that sound? pathetic. he hated himself for it, more than anyone else would. he hated his family for developing these issues. he hated himself for giving in, listening to anyone at a higher paygrade. and he hated everyone else for not letting him forget it. the only way to react was to confirm the other swirling rumours - about just how dark jamie collins could be. they talked about it sometimes. when some bright-eyed remarked how they would never be unminded like jamie collins, a wounded veteran would agree. and then add that the other reputation, the one everyone else heard, was no lie. no visage. it was the hard truth. and what drove that truth? the underground gossip of his own fucking peers. it was one vicious circle, and he hated every minute of it. no, he didn't hate his life. his work, torturing and killing. he was rather fond of that. it was what drove him. remember that, up there? insecurities, self-doubt, vulnerability. the only way he could confront himself was to shoot someone else in the face. and the only way to stop from the skeletons coming out of the closet was to shoot someone else in the face. or torture someone. or, in this case, stop yourself from doing any of the above.
everytime bella rovens spoke, the emotion flashed for a fraction of a second. she was getting under his skin with disturbing ease, and she knew it. but he knew her, too. all of this supposed wittiness was her own defence mechanism. the only time she grinned like that was when she had successfully torn him down (which had happened tonight. once. shut up.) or when he poked with the right stick. throw it back at him. he titled his head at her words, spitting down on loyalty. a disturbed grin crossed his face, the manic light dancing in his eyes. "whatever i do here tonight is for my own satisfaction, sweetheart. watching them fail at this game of cat and mouse is almost as fun as tonight. almost." honestly? had he not had a personal history with bella, he wouldn't have paid a second glance to this little situation. the russians allied with the brazilians, yes. but as she had pointed out several times tonight, he had no real involvement with the important shit. he tightened his grip against her, leaving no space between their bodies. "you claim to be apart of this world. but you aren't until you learn loyalty. go back to your little girlfriends and ask them. there is nothing else but loyalty. and blood." that was the part of her that sickened him. yes, she had a tremendous effect on how he did things. and yes, he despised that. but this was the digusting bit. all his life, he had been taught the importance of loyalty, trust. if you can't remain loyal to your family, no one is going to care who you are. had he ever crossed someone, it would be a race to who would get to kill him first: the italians, the irish, whoever. or the russians. turn on someone, and they aren't going to appreciate that. but she wouldn't know any of that, would she? and it sickened him.
he was still clutching the side of his head when he saw he had, again, poked with the right stick. all of this mock foolery, walking around with a hilarious swagger, was an act. he knew that, had for a long time. just like how he coldly killed people when he was threatened, this is what she did. well, kudos to her for being healthier about it. that's all the credit he'd allow. "when did i say any of that? i'm the scum of the earth, i know that. in twenty years, i'm going to be in jail, or dead. i do shitty things and i'll probably pay for it one day. but i do it because that's my life." his expression was hardened, the hatred biting at every word he spoke. "you kill and betray for personal gain. your own twisted version of justice. name a time i've ever done something for myself." he raised his eyebrows at her, the same sickened look on his face. people said things. a lot of things. many similar to what she had been pulling out of her ass for most of the night. but never, ever, had anyone ever accused him of being selfish. not like this. if someone came up and killed ksenia in front of him, he would want to kill them. mark my words, he'd want to. would he? well, maybe. right there, in the moment. he wouldn't plan for months, to kill off one little soldier because he felt like it. he had better things to do with his time, thanks.
in their little war of words, bella won. she did. and he knew that. she did, too. the irritating little munchkin had the ability to make his skin crawl. people still said things, but they never said them to his face. and here she was, rattling off almost every insecurity he had ever ignored. it took a lot to make jamie collins flush like that, the whole lot of emotion displayed out in the open. but that was with words. in a physical confrontation, he'd have no doubt of his victory. he was almost twice her size, and she was nursing a cute little injury already. but she held her own, he'd give her that. there would be some pretty bruises surfacing anytime now. a darkened eye socket, a constantly bleeding nose. no doubt a number of red, irritated markings on his torso. but he still won. he saw the blood pooling at her side, beginning to leak through her shirt. he saw her growing hesitation, the knowledge that he had won this slowly making sense to her. about time. even when she held the gun at him, the fear wasn't there. she wouldn't shoot him, she couldn't. killing in cold-blood was his game. and from what she'd been preaching, she only killed people who "had wronged her, too". what had he done? that's what made it easy to pull the gun from her grip, ignoring the echoing bang when the bullet struck the ground. he watched as the emotion collected in her eyes, then watched as his blow caused her to crumple to the ground. battle officially won.
- - - - - - - - - -
with the smoking gun still in his hand, jamie was patient as bella circled consciousness. a part of him, a big part of him, wanted to just leave her there. the time she had been knocked out, he had calmed himself down. the silence was nice. he forced the emotion back into his heart and looked at this like he should have all along: as a cruel, russian criminal. cold, sophisticated, and not afraid of violence. but her gagging laugh still irritated him, quickened his heart. no. she wasn't going to get to him again. breathing evenly, he watched her through the same cold eyes. "and you are one detained motherfucker." still, his free hand went up to his face, ineffectively wiping the blood from his skin. and it kept pooling. his nose had yet to completely stop bleeding. spitting onto the growing pile of blood on the ground, he began to note just how much he was bleeding. he spit another gob of blood onto the ground before looking at her again. as she shook around, he didn't react. only raised his eyebrows as she continued on and on like the broken psychotic she probably was. "not quite. handcuffs are more my style." he remained montone, if a little amused. she couldn't play crazy out of this. she was still annoying, however. sighing with irritation, jamie pulled himself straight again. keeping his distance, he stood right in front of her. aiming the gun closer to her foot, he discharged another bullet. it struck again, the same hollow bang bouncing around the room. "i thought i said you were going to shut up and listen to me." [/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 1938 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, they are seriously win.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Mar 25, 2011 23:11:14 GMT -6
- - - - - - …His expression was that of a psychopath, void of any real emotion, deranged… blood thirsty. It was like an animal stood before her, and from the rumors Bella had heard, James Collins was an animal when he was working. She’d never personally seen him in action, and she was secretly a little grateful. There may be more of a fear filled atmosphere if she had witnessed what he was capable of rather than just hearing tall tales through the grape vine. ”Sweetheart?” she echoed with mock endearment, ”You know how to win a girl’s heart, lover boy.” She shrugged, nonchalance practically radiating off of her very being. Oh, she was tense; she was even a little worried. Was she scared? Not quite. Bella had always been able to squeeze and squirm her way out of tight grips and sticky situations, but those people were always strangers. Jamie was not just a random off the street, he wasn’t just another lackey sent by her arch nemesis. She knew Jamie, but he knew her too. This was a dance they were doing, exchanging the roll of leader back and forth, and usually it was not something given away willingly. Every time he got a step ahead of her, she managed to counter him. It gave her a sense of power. This was her game, to be able to get the upper hand in any way that would hinder her opponent. With Jamie, that meant getting under his skin, annoying him to the core, send his spine shivering with pure irritation. With Jamie, all she had to do was evoke emotion. Once he began to let go, the only thing left to do was accelerate her tactics, prying every last finger from the ledge he held on to so tightly. She was getting there too, succeeding. He was fraying like an old piece if rope and she’d break his well trained concentration, there was no doubt in her mind. Every time a word escaped from her lips, she could see the flicker of unhinged feeling cross his face, even if it was only brief. James Collins had a soft spot, and Bella knew exactly where to take a stab to get to that soft spot. She had an uncanny way of knowing exactly which nerves to step on, which little comments would drive him up the wall. He may be good at mind games, but she was better… Or at least that was how it looked at the moment. The British-Brazilian had a cleverness about her, and once she tapped into it, well, she was invincible. Oh loyalty. It was just a word, a stupid word too, when it came to Jamie’s definition of it. Bella knew was it was, and she did have this strong devotion to people, but only to those who deserved it. She was loyal to her mother, she was loyal to Allegra, she was loyal to Syl and Joey, she was loyal to her sister, she was loyal to her grandparents, she was loyal to her clients, hell, she was even loyal to Maggie, and she barely knew the woman. It was when somebody wronged her that Bella would lose respect. She’d been loyal to Stefano Ferreira. The chances of her turning against him would have been extremely unlikely. Sure, she may have decided to separate herself from his organization, but she would have done so honestly, formally presenting him with her desire to leave. Mario Ferreira was another story. There was no chance in hell that she would have been so kind to that fucker, especially since walking away meant death. Jamie wouldn’t get that though, he’d never been in the position. How could he? Most people weren’t trying to force his hand in marriage. ”Fuck off,” she snorted, ”I have ‘loyalty’ to those who deserve it. I’m loyal to the other side of my family. I’m loyal to my little girlfriends,” she made a face, her voice dripping with sarcasm and derision. ”Mario Ferreira? Fuck him, there’s not loyalty there. There never was. My loyalty wasn’t to the Brazilians, it was to Stefano. When he died, down went your precious loyalty too,” she laughed without humor, ”How would you react if your big boss man cam down her and put a bullet in Ksenia’s head? He’s your superior, he’s your blood. What if he decides she’s a threat or something? Are you going to be okay with that?” She grinned viciously. It was all an act, the heartlessness. Speaking of Ksenia’s demise so casually was a little unsettling. ”Where do your real loyalties lie? Because for me, loyalty is back with friendship…” her face softened a little, ”And love.” A shrug rolled off her shoulders, the bitter jubilance radiating off her again, ”I’m not sure you’re capable of either one.”Isabella laughed when he spoke again. It was a real laugh, not her fake, malicious one. ”Thank God, finally you say something I can agree with!” but then she rolled her eyes, ”Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I wouldn’t call you the scum of the earth. I’m sure there are people worse than you out there. Or at least people who have much less skill.” She’d throw him a bone. He had talent in what he did, even if it was in the category titled Cruel and Unusual. It was an obvious fact, as plain and simple as the law of gravity or natural selection, that Bella Rovens did not like James Collins. She didn’t quite hate him, though after tonight her feeling might very well escalate to such intensity. In her book though, rapists and those who killed their own family members were worse than him. That thought had her second guessing herself, however. It was hypocritical to even think that, because although indirectly, Bella had been the essence behind her father’s murder. Did that make her worse than Jamie by her own rules? …Maybe he was right. No, no, he’s not your father, she convinced herself. He crossed the line first. He paid an assassin to murder her mother. He had never been around for her. He was never really a father to her. Bella didn’t consider him family, he was just an invalid who happened to share her DNA. He never wanted a daughter. He wanted a dynasty. If having him killed in the passion of revenge, to bring justice to her mother, well then damn her to the deepest pit of hell. Hopefully she’d see Jamie rotting there too. ”Oh, taking things so personally, are we?” her voice was slightly choked back, fighting away the emotions her own epiphany had brought on her. Damn it. Damn Jamie. ”You don’t know a fucking thing,” she spat at him. Yeah, she joined this life because she wanted to. What an idiot this guy was. He obviously didn’t know quite as much as he thought he did. ”If that’s what you really think, you’re not quite as informed as you’d like to think you are,” her grey green eyes stared hard into his ice blue ones, she composed herself momentarily, ”Darling,” the added word rolled off her tongue like the purr of a cat. She couldn’t honestly name something, one of those worst kind of sins, that James had done for himself though. He had her there. She wouldn’t entirely say he didn’t like what he did, because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be so good at it… but she would give him a point in the department of he didn’t do it for himself. Would she admit that out loud? Hell no, she just wasn’t even going to acknowledge that he’d said anything concerning it. It bothered her that she’d let Jamie get to her just liked she’d gotten to him, but at least she’d managed to do so more times. She’d made herself seem like a maniacal drunk bitch who was pmsing the entire time. It wasn’t as obvious when he’d gotten to her, or so she’d like to think. It didn’t affect her like it did him. Bella felt emotions every day. It never damaged her game when they came into play. She was used to them. Jamie was not. Remember that ledge he was holding on to? He was about to fall off, about to lose this little battle between them. He was holding on by one single finger, or at least that’s how the odds faired before she’d so idiotically tried to take him on physically, before he’d removed the gun from her hands and gotten a hold of her. Each one of those grimy little appendages on his hands got hold of their grip again. In one fluid movement, he pulled himself up and over the ledge, upright and powerful again, no longer vulnerable. And with a blow to the head, he pushed Bella right over that cliff. Jamie won. - - - - - - There were many different types of pain in this world. First and foremost, there was emotional pain. It could vary in so many different forms; affect a human being in so many different ways. It differed with age too, evolved, and became deeper. One event could ruin a person for the rest of their life. If somebody wasn’t careful, they could let it break them. As a child, it was always referred to as “hurt feelings.” A kid wandering around on the playground, being denied to join in on any games, maybe a boy finds some scissors and cuts of a pigtail of the girl sitting next to him. It was petty and simple, easy to deal with, and usually forgiven. The minds of children were so easily swayed. It only progressed slightly through the years. A thirteen year old girl crying herself to sleep because her first boyfriend broke up with her; it was a taste of true heartbreak, but nothing permanent. Things really started to take a turn in high school, though the majority of it all was vindictive and trivial, stupid things that adolescents find important to argue about. She slept with her boyfriend, he broke up with her for her best friend, or she told everybody your biggest secret… They were pains felt by the more slow minded beings on the planet. As a teenager, everything seemed so important though… that was, until they became adults. Then, fully mature, starting a life outside of the careful nest their parents had built for them, that was when the real mental and emotional pains came. People had to be careful when they were making those decisions that could affect them for the rest of their life. Heartbreak, envy, depression, ignorance, happiness, rage: they were all emotions that intensified over the years. Those emotions lead people to make the irrational decisions that could change the course of their life. Just like Bella did. She had let the intensified emotions take control of any rationality left in her. She’d given into revenge, heartache, pure anger. She’d done things she couldn’t take back, things that had changed the course of her life completely. No regrets, though. These days, all she did was put on a front. It wasn’t usually an act, the way she presented herself; so easy going and light hearted. Fun. Other days it took some effort to keep it up, but on the bright side, she become an expert in the art of facades. Some people may argue that emotional pain triumphs over physical pain, at least in the long run. Physical pain could break somebody quickly though. It had its variations as well. There was the scraped knee from falling on the street, usually a slight sting, enough to make a kid’s eyes water, but teenagers and adults typically just dusted it off like yesterday’s news. Then there was the pain of broken bones, which was usually cured quickly with a good dosage of morphine, though the bruising sometimes lasted. Those were things for amateurs though. The real dirty secret was what happened behind the scenes, the thing people thought they knew about because of what was presented on the big screen in the theaters. You know, all those James Bond and spy movies. Things got dirtier than that though. Of course there was the bullet wounds and the stabbings, those were crimes people could imagine… but torture? That was a whole new ball park. The common public assumed they knew how it worked. They thought they had the idea, that they could imagine it. It was an ugly process, it was worse than anything the movies would show you. Harsh and brutal things would happen in the darker places where nobody dared to shine a light. Physical pain beat mental pain, or at least that was how Bella decided to see it. With emotion, you could put up walls and block it out. It wasn’t as though she had to sit down and endure every feeling she’d ever felt for the rest of her life. She could ignore them, get rid of them. Physical pain, however? That was harder to put up mental blocks for. That was the tough part, the one where you had to be superman to be able to put on a offhand face and pretend like it didn’t affect you all that much. Fortunately, the “traitor” had never been tortured. She’d never had anything worse done to her than a simple hole dealt to her gut by a speeding bullet. Bella had never been tortured, and she sure as hell didn’t plan on starting a tradition tonight. When Jamie spoke, all she did in response was spit at him; though in her hazy daze she was pretty sure she missed him completely. What really got under her skin was the fact that she no longer had that hold over him. He was calm, cool, and collected now. He was James Collins again, he had this under control… or so she was going to let him think for a while long, at least until the opportunity to surprise him arose. It was much too easy to sneak the knife up her sleeve. The difficult part was that her hands were bound together, and Jamie was obviously watching her like a hawk. For now, she’d just have to go with the flow, and if worst came to worst, she could always try and take a stab at him, though hopefully it wouldn’t get quite that tense. You could never be sure with a psychopath, though. She ignored most of everything he said, not really caring to respond, that is until her deranged act was finished. And then he shot at her foot. Naturally, she’d moved her feet further away from the pinpoint location where he’d aimed. It was fast, a reflex. Her eyes darkened, it was visible on her face. She clenched her jaw, forcing the wild part of her down. At this point, she really saw no need to put on her happy face and piss him off with her ridiculing travesty. He’d obviously already had time to assemble himself. ”Shit!” she yelled at him, her jaw flexing, slender eyebrows knitting together. She flailed a little bit. The roar of the gunshot made her head throb even worse, and she shook her head back and forth, squeezing her eyes shut, ”Stop shooting at me!” She raised her hands to cover her ears, but then realized she couldn’t. It took a few moments to assemble her thoughts, to at least try and be coherent, ”What do you want from me?” she growled, her disposition was descending into darkness. She hadn’t felt this enraged since… since her father. Nothing this bad had happened to her since. Sure, a gun aimed and hitting her, but she’d scraped by easily. Now she was stuck. There wasn’t anything he could possibly want that she would know. ”Start talking,” her voice was demanding even though she knew she was really in no place to be barking orders. There was no way she would tell him anything, even if she had a clue what he wanted. Her lips were sealed.
status•finished.
tagged• “jellie von awesome bean”
comments• Sorry I ended it somewhat lamely.
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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Post by james devon sakahrov-collins on Apr 4, 2011 2:04:13 GMT -6
-----------------------------------------------------------JANUARY, 2012. MIDNIGHT. THE SHAKS.
[/size] -----------------------------------------------------------[/color][/center] ,IT HAD BEEN awhile, a long while, since he had experienced this level of emotion. the specification of emotion wasn’t what concerned him. it wasn’t even the irritating invalid who was arising these emotions. it was the fact that he, jamie collins, was feeling it. on an average day he allowed himself two varieties of feeling: anger and nothing. nothing at all. that’s the way he liked it. when he dwelled in his own dark, unstable world, there was no emotion to feel. it was an escape. he didn’t feel the regret or the shame or the guilt or the hatred or the inferiority or the insecurity or whatever else the world wanted him to feel. the anger came in the brief moment he was about to break, an inch from jumping off the cliff and into the ocean of despair. that was how it was on the average day. tonight was proving to be the very opposite. in less than an hour, he had experienced everything from grim amusement to satisfaction to the worst sort of breaking. it would take three days of being turned off to stablilize all that. he was quickly growing uncomfortable with confronting all of these ghosts. worse? it didn’t seem like his personal she-devil was satisfied.
he was already drained. it would only be a matter of time before he fell off the edge completely.
but it wasn’t time. not yet. his defences weren’t empty. if she continued to speak like that, brushing against his grain of loyalty, it would blister and he would snap her neck. he couldn’t even fucking reply. because she was right. he knew she was. his expression hardened, visibly swallowing. if he shoved all of that down his throat, maybe he wouldn’t choke on everything that was the truth. ”you don’t know. any of it. it would never fucking happen. because of the loyalty you choose to spit on.” his words were stone, his face fighting off the vulnerability that was quickly flooding his eyes. ”you don’t know any of it.” he repeated his words, softer this time. more to himelf. like he was trying to convince himself to believe those words. it was when she chose to bring in friendship and love and rainbows and puppies and having picnics in a field full of daisies that he stepped away from her. stopped looking at her. he searched the destruction of their surroundings, for anything to catch his attention. no. nothing in the dim light wanted to come out and play. turning to face the towering pillar to their left, he just looked at it. counted to thirty, evened his breathing. and then drove his fist into it once. twice. three times. and two more times after that. he gritted his teeth, falling victim to the emotion he had built a dam against. the way she said it, so plainly. so openly. that’s what sent him teetering closer to the edge, flirting with disaster. kicking the pillar once, he turned back to her. he ignored the throbbing in his toe and the bloody mess on his knuckles. he just focussed on her, the shame and inferiority and shattered skulls shining on his face. ”you don’t fucking know me.” these words were quiet, nearly inaudible. he was talking to the space around them and everyone who chose to wallow in the filth. they didn’t fucking know him, either.
the emotion was still there, torn open and raw, when she continued to speak. she had won this battle. and she knew it. and the punishment he saw fit was that she continued her nonchalance, skipping around in the rain pretending not to have a care in the fucking world. the anger and the stiffness had long vanished from his demeanour. now he simply stood, somehow deflated. with the self-everything displayed on his face, he found the defence ammunition to keep his voice steady. ”i would,” his words were dark, almost amused. sardonic. ”and i would say you are too.” at these words, too, he found his face hardening. just as he had a moment earlier, confessing just how high on the ladder of life they were. that was something that could put his emotional break at rest. for now. the second he was finished describing just how in denial she seemed to be, the wound started to bleed again. and then it would stop, just like that. remember that rollar coaster of emotion? even with this intensified state, it still continued. everytime she opened her mouth and spit out everything she thought was ethical, the hardened criminal named jamie collins returned. until he was finished speaking, at least. ”does it matter? you think i’m a brainless, mindless soldier with no morality or backbone. what i think shouldn’t even set off your firewall. shouldn’t.” his breathing was still erratic, his face still shining with sweat and shame. but his words were solid, steelized in ice. echoing just how masterful he had become with controlling his emotions. press the button and he forgot who he was, lost in the inhumanity he had grown so comfortable in. she could break in and pump blood into his veins with ease, but the ice blood had developed a nasty protection system. just because she had won didn’t mean he hadn’t.
truth, watching her chip and the edges and develop deep cracks bandaged his own seeping wound. the canyon of vulnerability and inferiority was closing. healed with his own sick satisfaction of breaking someone else. that was why, he told himself, he wasn’t going to kill her. that would be too freeing. he was going to watch isabella rovens suffer just like he was. he had lost it, danced with falling off the edge completely. and all because she chose to be a smartass. had she? no. not quite. but she didn’t need to. from the expression haunting her eyes, he knew she was going to remember this, every word exchanged. she was going to obsess and confront the emotions that his words brought her. he was going to ignore them, once it healed and he could stitch it with ‘i don’t care’s and ‘just torture someone’s. weave black thoughts like delicate thread and close everything he had denied for so long. it would come by tomorrow, after he’d amped his medication of drinking to numb the wound in the mean time. bella rovens had grown clever, peeled away his flesh, rolled him in salt and then trapped him in a robe of barbed wire. he had grown throns, a haunting reminder that she could never quite escape. it satisfied him, because that was all it took. she paused for a second to pull one of those thorns out and he assisted with the final push.
he won.
- - - - - - - - - -
he should have begun stitching his vulnerabilities when she was unconcious. taken the time to carefully thread his needle and stop some of the bleeding. he should have unwrapped himself from the barbed wire and started to wash the salt from his body. he should have been sitting there, enveloped in darkness, to have the silence to sort out his issues into the ‘doesn’t matter’ files or the ‘deal with it never’ files. he had should have been healing his mentality. but he didn’t. the thought didn’t even occur to him, eerie in the shadows and the silence. instead he paced the room, clearing his mind of everything and pulling a cloak of coldness over the salt and barbed wire. the wind didn’t bother it as much then, because the thick material protected it. utilitarian, good against the weather. the ice was elegant, wrapped in dark velvet. it was soft against the barbed wire. he only let it spread across his body, freezing at the edges until bella entered the situation again.
the cloak had achieved its goal by that time. frozen to the edges of his mind, embellished the ice with dark stained glass. any trace of emotion and canyons had vanished, replaced by the very monster she had heard of. a smile etched his mouth as she swore, ordering him to put the gun down. it was light, fluid and translucent. airy and carefree. sick and twisted. he rounded the chair, appearing at her side. tracing a finger along her jawline, he held the gun up to their eyelevel. slowly, softly, he stopped at her chin and gripped it lightly, pulling her face to look at his own. ”i thought you liked the sound,” his words, too, were soft and fluid. almost bored. he pointed the gun into the shadows and pulled the trigger again, revelling in the echo of a ricocheting bullet. ”you liked it enough to kill again. stand there and get your high off the sound and the smoking wound.” he pulled the trigger again. carelessly, easily. that’s when he stood up and faced her again, at apparent ease. the very sight of seeing her this vulnerable, it tightened the frozen cloak all the more. it constricted the barbed wire too, rebelling against the salt and bleeding flesh. he ignored it again. ”what do i want from you?” he paused to look at her, eyebrows raised. ”i want you to stop believing i’m going to torture you for information. everything you know, i know. so relax.” he flared his nostrils, tensing at the admittance that he had no real reason to have her this way. he was supposed to have just let her run off into the night, pretending to let her win. ”you were right. i’m just like you. i’m worse. i’m doing this for my own sick, personal gain.”
he had to stop looking at her. he didn’t know why the fuck just the site of her, this retched english invalid, melted his edges. it just did. she didn’t have to say anything anymore. the longer he stood in her gas chamber, the less gas she needed to pump. he was quickly growing terrified of being there at all, feeling this looming presence. he didn’t know why. and he didn’t have time to think about it. that just sped up the melting process. had this been anyone else - absolutely anyone - sitting in front of him, he would have had his satisfaction ages ago. trapped in his icy inhumanity, he would have delivered just what he wanted and left. with bella, all he did was begin to trap himself in the icy inhumanity. explain his intentions, not his actions. there was something about it and it confused him. upset him. and he didn’t fucking know why. he tore his eyes from her prone form, bringing his gun-holding hand to his mouth and chewing on his thumb. pondering, thinking. obsessing. ”there’s something about you. and i don’t know what it is. you don’t either.” he was talking to the air, demanding answers that he knew weren’t coming. they didn’t exist. his voice had softened, echoing the exhausted he had displayed earlier. shit.
that grim smile crossed his face, the sardonic scoff soon following. shitshitshit. she didn’t have to talk anymore. just seeing her, knowing that she could easily tightened her grip on him, was beginning to absolutely terrify him. ”i don’t know. you just get to be the audience. because i knew it would piss you off.” he wasn’t looking at her, barely paid attention to her. he was busy looking at the pillar he had previously assulted. the edges of his ice were cracking, letting the emotion flood the room. ”because...because, fuck them.” he drove his fist into it again. ”fuck their orders and their loyalty and their lack of warmth.” each word, he drove his fist into the decreped wood. onetwothree. ”did you know all they care about is the job? not family. not feeling. nothing.” he spoke loudly, turning to look six inches to the left of bella. he was talking to her, because he had no one else to talk to. she had to listen to him. "their ice. their violence. their sophistication." every word, he unleashed another bullet. three of them. onetwothree. this time it was downwards, flirting with striking his own feet. he didn’t even care the two that struck a mere inch from his right foot. ”fuck pierce. fuck temperance. fuck my family.” that accounted for his final two bullets, his family earning the groan of an empty chamber. he didn’t even pay attention. he continued to pull it, distracted by the emptiness of the gun, when he reached the pillar and slid down to the ground. ”fuck all of it.” his last words were whispered, exhausted. broken. completely broken and throwing the pieces into the sea of salt and barbed wire. he revelled in it, increased the torture to himself. he ripped open all of his wounds, ripping the delicate stitched and let the blood flow.
he didn’t even know why he had kept her there. because it would piss her off. all her presence had done was open the dam and let the black blood flow. it was everywhere, seeping through his skin and onto the blood caked on his face and the bruises shining on his arms. he was going to be black and dead soon. he tensed and gripped the useless firearm, groaning his joints and threw it in bella’s direction. anything to get it away from him. that was when he looked at her again, a reversal from where he’d been before. deflated, exhausted, defeated. the hatred watered in his eyes, the desperation wavered his body. ”you thought you knew me. you thought you had everything figured out.” his words were laced with acid, his tongue barbed and ready to strike. ”you knew nothing. that’s what i wanted from you. i wanted you to know that you’re never right. that you’re pretending to be as solid. but you’re not. i wanted you to know that, too.” he just continued to look at her, completely defeated. he didn’t know any of it anymore. he was supposed to have tortured and left her bleeding. not tortured and left himself for bleeding. supposed to. [/size][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- STATUS, complete.
TAGGED, jellie bean !
LENGTH, 2409 words.
ATTIRE, clicketh.
NOTES, hope the change of emotion is okay. it took on a life of its own.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to linkin park - "the catalyst"
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Post by bellasantanarovens on Apr 14, 2011 11:30:40 GMT -6
- - - - - - …Laughter radiated off bella as he spoke so furiously, so certain of his words, trying to convince himself that the russians were colder than he even thought they were, "oh my dear, naive, little jamie," she articulated carefully, pronouncing every word with a dosage higher of mockery and pity, "i've heard rumors about your precious russians," she grinned, her eyes darkening, "and from what i've heard, their word is the law. if they decided so, it would be done," she paused, bringing her hand up to her ear, and snapping, the sound echoing throughout the empty room, "just like that." and then there was silence, it was almost enveloping, suffocating. thankfully, in a room with those two, it was never bound to last long. his next words made her chuckle, shaking her head back and forth. and then he'd unexpected started beating a pillar with his fist, his knuckles being bloodied by the force. bella's eyes widened and she gave him a peculiar look, her eyebrows knitting together, "you... need help." was all she could manage, though she did enjoy that he was inflicting physical pain on himself. god, when was the last time she'd found herself so engrossed with making somebody break, and not physically, but mentally? what was it about this one russian that tapped into the darkest part of her? well, it was probably the fact that he barged in on her homey, quiet little night, started throwing threats this way and that, the usual. things that would typically piss of a woman, or any sane person for that matter. that and she knew he wasn't going to let her walk away from all of this. …If he did, willingly, then she really didn't know him. …But that wasn't going to happen, so the devilish smirk stayed plastered on her face, her eyes locking onto his, putting on the airy, care-free act she was so good as portraying, "you're right, collins," she whispered, the words tainted with poison. it was her entire goal, after all, to inject her poison into the stoney features, the icy blood, the invincible warrior that james seemed to think he was, "i don't know you." she shrugged, rolling her eyes like it was yesterday's news, "i'm sure you're really valiant hearted, deep, deep, down. i bet you save kittens from rabid dogs, i bet you have a soft spot for the damsel in distress, i bet you read stories about rainbows and butterflies and unicorns," and then her expression dropped a bit, "you're absolutely right. i'm sure i don't know you that well. just like i don't know hitler that well," she snorted, "i'm sure he was just misunderstood." being an annoying little shit was fun. she knew she was just screwing with him, but really, how often did she get to do this with anybody? it made her wish that somebody would throw her one on one against mario. fuck, she would rip himto shreds. it would be this times ten, since she would actually have an incentive, since he was the person who she could actually consider her enemy. jamie was just a random, he was some robotic pawn for the russians, who, for some reason, cared enough about the brazilians wishes to give him orders. maybe it was for the sake of allies, or something. they were widely known for being the bitches. …Bella had never been beaten by somebody before. she was talented, maybe not the best out there, but the girl could most defnitely hold her own. she was fast, she processed a situation well and could function good as new under pressure. it wasn't something that happened overnight once she had dived head first into this current lifestyle. no, bella had always maintained these characteristics, ever since she was a kid. they matured as she did, and she applied them in the different ways she was able to living in a normal world with a normal family and normal friends and normal hobbies. once she'd become a criminal with permanently red stained hands, well, that was when those abilities were enhanced and twisted in ways that would increase her potential in her new world. life as she knew it had ended, a new era had begun, and she was good at it. can you imagine what would have happened if she hadn't been good at it? well she would have gotten her revenge on her father. and then what? probably would have become mario's trophy wife and lived a life behind the scenes, no freedom, no choices, just simply... there. if there was some sort of divine power out there, they'd hearded her down this path like a mindless heifer. everything had been too perfect, she'd always been able to fend for herself, always was tough as nails, that was until she ran into james collins in a one on one fight and he kicked her ass into unconsciousness. - - - - - - - - - …It wasn't a pleasant experience, waking up in a dark room, tied to a chair, a pounding headache, and a bloodyass russian toolbag standing in front of you. isabella rovens had never been caught before, she'd always been one step ahead of the game, but now? now she was the fly in a spider's web, helpless and being prepared to be tonight's dinner, or at least it was a similar situation. she was hoping jamie wouldn't try and take a bite out of her. she'd always known which point to step on to keep out of danger, to make sure nothing collapsed, that her whole world didn't come dumbling down on top of her. the thing about this was, well, she'd never even seen jamie coming, he never even crossed her mind as a possible thread. when bella came to valkyrie, she wasn't expecting the ghosts from her past to be there waiting for her, haunting every step she took, and so far they hadn't been, or at least not by the ghosts she dreaded. seriously, why the fuck would james collins, robot russian hitman extraordinaire, be hanging out in valkyrie? she felt like she was on one of those "punk'd" television shows and her entire life was a joke. that even seemed more likely than just happening to run into him. if she'd expected him to be a threat, she would have had tabs on in, information, ways to keep ahead of the game. she never it saw it coming. …For a moment, she just wanted this all to be over, she wanted to rewind her life back before it was even possible that any of this could have happened. she wanted too back to before her mother's murder, somehow being able to prevent it and having her parents divorced instead of the demented way her father had decided to end things, which she'd never really understood. she wanted to be in school again, gossiping at lunch time, badmouthing teachers, flirting carlessly. she wanted to go to parties with her grandparents again, she wanted them to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, she wanted the goodnight kisses and hugs, she wanted all the craziness around her to just... disappear. it wasn't something she owuld admit, but she missed it, all of it, though it wasn't something she would ever admit. she missed her sister, her friends, her lifestyle, her late night phone calls with her brother, her in depth talks with her mother. she missed being scolded and in trouble, getting yelled at, then having to apologize. every little aspect, she missed it. and then the reveries ended, and she again realized that nothing was ever going to be the same again. she was in this for life. even if bella had found a way to go back to london and make it all better, there was no chance she would readjust to the normal. …She'd never show it openly, refusing to give this crazy man the satisfaction, but bella was actually scared. or well, worried. she was tied up, totally at the mercy of this insane sociopathic killer, what was she supposed to expect? no matter the angle, things weren't looking all too good. he might torture her, she had heard horror stories about it, and she'd seen the effects it had on the people who lived through it, which she would because she was certain he didn't have any orders to kill her, which would probably keep her alive. but did she really want to be aive after he was finished with her? plus the upcoming events that would surely follow. she'd be interrogated by more russians, probably, and the novikoff's or verrentennikov's weren't the people she wanted to meet. and then she would be handed over to the brazilians, being placed under mario's care, totally at his whim, and he would expect her to grovel and beg for forgiveness,and after that it was indefinite. he might kill her, torture her for himself, anythig demonic and evil since she was sure there was no more intentions of marriage there. whatever the consequences, she knew they wouldn't end well, and that was why, even if it seemed jamie had one, she would fight. she would never stop fighting. …Isabella had always been a fighter, ever since she was a kid.It was in her blood, her mother had been perserverant and hard-headed, her father had devoted his life to a war with the mafias of brazil. her sister fought for anything she believed in, her brother fought to be seen as the light of his father's lie, which he was. she'd been dealt fight genes, and she would use them to her advantage. there was no way in hell she would just let jamie destroy everything she'd woked so hard for, she would never let him topple the mountains she'd climbed, or drain the oceans she'd swam across. one invalid russian soldier was not going to ruin her life, she would never stop fighting defeat. and that was why she was so anxious to use the kife she'd so cleverly slipped up her sleeve. he would never see it coming, the only had part was that she ha to wait for an opening. she had one shot to get it right, and then it was over; he either won her over or she escaped. black and white, simple as night and day. she was prepared to fght him, but she never even dreamed of what was going to happen. …Her body still tensed as e fired the extra bullets, her lips sealed with refusal to give into his tauntings. she could taste the rustic blood swimming in her mouth, and when he gripped her face and forced her to pay attention to him, she spat the contents lurkin behind her lips at him. she had to get out before she lost too much blood to even function. he finally answered her question, and when he said relax, she was irritated to find that her body actually did relax, and much too soon, really, considering his next phrase wasn't all too comforting, "fuck you," she laughed, the sound dry and bitter. there was no way he was going to have her groveling and kissing his feet, begging pardon for her crimes. se'd die a thousand times before letting him break her. it was like that old saying about sticks and stones breaking bones, but the soul was invincible, or some other bullshit. "do whatever you want, shitface," she snarled, wincing slightly as her side protested to the movement she'd made, "but know that one day i'll see you burn." oh threats, those were good coming from the person tied to a chair, but she meant every word. whatever he did, if she lived, she would bring it down on him ten fold. revenge was something she couldn't resist. her entire being would crave it. …Bella had expected blood, and pain, and well most oher unpleasant concoctions her brain could muster up. what she hadn't foreseen was jamie becoming a literal crazy person. she didn't remember him the head, but aparently she had because this was just plain weird. "what are you talking about, asshat?" she snapped as he spoke. something about who? what the hell was he saying? she scowled at him, confusion lighting up her eyes. "all right, maybe you should sit down you looney toon," she spoke again, her voice having much less hostility governing it. now it was just inquisitive as to when exacly james collins lost his sanity. he wasn't paying attention to her though, not really. so she took the opportunity to her advantage, gently sliding the knife out of her sleeve and into her bound hands. she held it awkwardly, incessantly looking up to make sre he was still staring at the pillar and not at her. she did away with the ropes, ignoring his crazy talk about audiences and hat, whatever. just as she finished binding the ropes, she heard him verbally assaulting "them", his family maybe? the russians in general? whatever, it wasn't her problem. she bent over, cutting her feet loose quite easily, trying to ignore his ranting. she finshed, sliding the knife back into the boof and resuming her previus position, staring at him. …Bella almost wanted to laugh, but she was much to lost to even consider it. He was looking in her direction now, he she desparately hoped he didn't notice she wasn't tied up as tighly since she'd quickly flung the ropes over her wrists, hoping it looked okay. he started shooting too, and she jamed every time, "fucking!" she yelled at him, "fucking stop doing that!" he didn't care for her opinions on the matter though. oh? temperence and pierce? who were they? family. "yes, you fuck those bitches!" she chanted, totally giving up on trying to figure out what was happening. all she cared about was getting out of dodge and her side stitched up again. at least it wasn't bleeding profusely. when e started shooting near his own feet, she called out a breif, accidental protest, but then realized it would be in her best interests if he did shoot himself in the foot. but then he was out of bullets and threw the gun towards her. she frowned, still particularly confused, but deciding this was her lucky acting up again. she always got out of sticky situations, and now she was sure this one would be no different. …He was b the pillar then, on the ground, staring at her with an expression she never imained somebody like him could wear. for once, he was right, he totally had her pinned. she didn't know him, she didn't know what made him the way he was. she knew what she saw, but not the why. it was like he was the bridge, but there was no way she knew all the water flowing beneath it. looks can be deceiving. too bad she was past caring, or at least caring enough to stick around. she really was curious, she knew the pains of family betrayal all too well, she knew how something could change you, and apparently so did jamie. the softer side of her, the old bella that she thought was gone, well, that bella felt bad. that bella wanted to sit down and do something to make this better. the logical part of her screamed in protest though, and for once she was going to listen to the logical part, though she was particularly drawn to that little piece of who she used to be. she wanted to explore it more. there was no time for that, she couldn't trust jamie. he was her... her enemy, right? why were these stupid girly hormones getting in the way of her plan? she pushed the feelings out, embracing he coldness, the part of her that didn't care. she found whre she'd left her duffle bag and the guns in it, as well as some other stuff, jewelry, receits, another sweatshirt... but it would be too risky to try and grab it. …Her mind quickly calculated her chances of getting out. there was a window to her side, and she could tell the sky was lightening. they'd been here well through the night, and now it was almost time for the sun to come out. what a waste. she decided she could make it out the window before he would even get up, she just had to be prepared for the pain and possible dizziness from her head and side. she was soaked in blood and already feling quite weak. it was the moment of truth. one. two.three. she jumped out of the chair, wincing, and gracefully threw herself out the window. she looked back through it at the heartless fiend, the heartless fiend with a story, the heartless fiend who somehow got her to feel sorry for him. she made contact for a moment, her lips parting to say something, but she didn't know what to say, so instead she saluted him casually, feeling elated to have won. she really had won. now she just had to jog to the hospital and reverse all the fuckery that had happened to her body tonight.
status•finished.
tagged• “jellie von awesome bean”
comments• hope it was okay?
clothes•sneaky?
lyrics•let it ride - automatic loveletter
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