[Snoozevamp] Confined Space

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[Snoozevamp] Confined Space

Post by sinistra_blache on Sun Sep 08, 2013 7:45 am

(Just a fic! Random need to hurt absolutely everyone in this 'verse popped up and I found a way to make it happen. The end bit is a little weak. Sorry about that. Trying something new. It's set after the Mouse/Mitz break-up but before anything else really happens. It's Mousecentric, which is weird for me, but that is what came out :/)


Mara had told her that she was going through the motions, but Mouse knew the truth. She was depressed as shit. It’d taken her a good couple of months to actually admit that to herself and, at the time, she had decided that it was a good thing. Truth of the matter was that it made things worse. It made her want to ignore patrol even more, it made her care less about the rules, it made her eye up non-regulation weapons just that little more.

She wasn’t the kind of sad that made her want to hurt herself. She’d never really understood that mentality. It probably had a lot to do with the in-built Slayer need for survival. But it made her the kind of sad that was a little stupid. Reckless, Mara would have called it.

Time and time again, patrol after patrol, report after report, Mara told her the same thing; You’re getting lazy and you’re getting reckless. And it’s going to get someone killed.

Not Mouse. A dead Mouse was never the end result of Mara’s disappointment parade. No, it was always an ambiguous someone. The hard part wasn’t accepting that Mara was telling the truth. The hard part was getting over her bullshit enough to give a fuck.

Mitz would have made her give a fuck. He would have said something throwaway and adorable, he would have come over to help her fix that fucking dryer instead of her needing to call in some guy to do it, and he would have shook her out of it without even knowing.

That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? He was the reason she was like this. Or, if she were being honest with herself, she was the reason but it was all tied up around him. She knew, truly fucking knew, that it was in his best interest to break up with him. He was too deep, she was too deep with him, and one of them would have done something terrible and someone was going to get killed.

Not Mouse. A dead Mouse is never the end result of these disappointment fantasies.

Mouse knew it was for the best. She knew that it was being cruel to be kind. But it ripped her apart and, whenever she saw him, she could tell it did the same to him. That didn’t help the aching nothing she had begun to feel instead of actual, normal sadness. They hadn’t talked in months, of course, because he was being Mitz about the whole thing and giving her space while shooting hopeful glances whenever he “happened” to pass her in the lair when she visited on business. It didn’t help that he didn’t hate her. He should hate her, like a normal person. But Mitz had never been normal, had he?

He was living with his vampire now. Mitz’s house was left mostly empty. It was weird passing it on her drive home from grocery shopping, with its lights out and lawn overgrowing. She was pretty sure he was keeping it for whatever reason, but it wasn’t like she could suddenly talk real estate with him now.

These were exactly the thoughts Mouse didn’t need running through her head when out on patrol. She needed them even less when she was on an honest-to-fuck mission. Government sanctioned and everything. This was what paid her bills and she knew that if she didn’t pull her goddamned finger out she was going to get someone killed.

Mouse took a breath and made herself give a damn. Don’t kill everything you see, she told herself, no matter how much you want to. Keep to regulation, follow the rules, get back in time for Wife Swap.

She stood outside the warehouse where she had tracked the last sloppy member of the coven she needed to take down. Smart vampires were the worst kind. They don’t just deal in blood and base desires, they go deeper than that. Run cons, really long ones, and break big laws. Filthy laws. These ones were trafficking weres. Sending them off to some weirdo fucking vampire island in the Pacific where US laws dealing with the undead couldn’t touch them. These fuckers were going back to slave trade, and they had somehow made it work in like five states.

Mouse knew that, with the way her head was getting, it was only a matter of time before she dropped the proverbial ball. She refused to let it be this one.

It takes all of two seconds for Mouse to decide whether or not it was best to kick down the front door or make her way in more quietly. One second was spent reminding herself that this was the undroppable ball, then she found a way up to the roof. Warehouses, for some reason or another, were always the easier type of building to climb. And they always had nice, handy windows at the top.

She found one that was miraculously open, though the stench wafting through it told her why it was open in the first place. It was musky and warm and alive and horrible. This was the place. No undead thing could make that kind of smell, and no living thing would stay too long with that around by choice. She dropped down silently. Mara would have been damned proud of her, Mouse decided and gave herself a mental pat on the back. Going through the motions my ass, she thought.

There were containers all around her. They were only about three feet high, two foot deep. They all had air holes poked into them, so it wasn’t like Mouse needed stickers on them telling her what was inside. She let herself get good and angry about it. She was going to need that anger. She accepted it and let it fill up the aching nothing, making her nice and warm through. It was better than cold anger. It was hot and it was fucking righteous and she was going to dust so many freaky, power-hungry vamps that she was going to sleep like a fucking baby when dawn rolled ‘round.

The action goes by in a flurry of blood and dust and teeth and knives. Mouse is bruised and tired by the end of it but was once fifteen vampires caught off guard turns to two locked in their office and begging her to let them live if they talk. Not what Mouse wants to do with them, but exactly what she needs to keep this ball from dropping. She keeps them there, fishes out her cell and speed dials the cops. This being a Slayer bust-up, they’ll get in touch with the feds and they’ll take it all from here. All Mouse has to do is keep from killing the remaining vampires and get the victims free.

All of them are weres. The boxes are technically too small to hold a shifted person, so if they try they end up shifting back to human form and passing out in seconds - which is a defense mechanism Mouse has never understood. At least twenty of them are out for the count when Mouse gets to them to tell them they’re going to be okay, that help is on the way, don’t worry because their friendly neighbourhood Slayer has Slayed her way to victory. More than thirty cried and screamed and thanked her and asked why she wasn’t letting them out and who was she. It was overwhelming.

It was overwhelming until Mouse started to recognise the voices through the air-holes, then she revised her definition of overwhelming.

They had gotten some of the lower ranked wolves from Max’s pack. Daya and Clarence called out to her by name. She recognised Kyle’s whiney voice ringing out above the rest. It was kind of amazing that she caught the next one, but Mouse had years of acclimatising to that particular hopeless whisper.

“Mouse? Is that you?”

Mouse ran past two containers, actually ignoring pleas of help, to get to him. “Mitz? What the fuck. What the fuck,” she whispered frantically. She didn’t know why she was whispering. “How did this happen?”

“Dunno,” he sounded raspy, like he was thirsty. Had anyone been fed or given water? How fucking dare those vamps. Mouse stood and looked over the containers to give a glare to the two locked away in the office. This was the cold anger that she wasn’t hoping for. This was the kind of shit that could get all kinds of balls dropped. “I was walking home, I guess they singled me out. Are you okay?”

“Jesus,” Mouse dropped again so she could talk properly to him. “Yes. Fuck, why the hell - yes, I’m okay.”

She could hear him sigh in relief. “Good.”

“I have to go and find a way to get you out. The metal is too thick. I already fucked someone’s hearing up tonight trying to bust them out.”

“I heard you,” he says, and he laughs. He laughs. Mouse feels like she’s going to lose it. “But don’t - just stay here, okay?”

“Mitz, I have to go. I have to get you out and everyone else. You know they have Daya in here? And Kyle and Clarence.”

“I know, I know, I heard their howls, I know,” he says quickly, like he’s already trying to forget it.

“I have to go.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll be back,” she promises, and is already a few feet away when Mitz speaks again.

“Don’t you leave me!” He shouts. Begs. If she hadn’t been talking to him seconds before, his voice might have been lost in the wailing cacophony. Mouse stops and looks back at the metal box holding her ex-boyfriend and is so guilt-ridden but grateful that there was no way to see out. He doesn’t shout again. He’s gone back to the hopeless whisper. “You’re gone, aren’t you. ...alright.”

Mouse allows herself all of one second to close her eyes and feel bad. But then it’s gone because she has to do the right thing. She has to leave him to help him. And he’ll never get that. It’ll always feel like she’s the bitch.

And here Mouse was thinking she didn’t give a damn enough. Turns out that all along that aching nothing was just her giving too much of a damn. Ain’t that just a fucking kick in the teeth.

The keys are in the office with the vampires. Mouse tears the place apart for the full forty minutes it takes for the cops to arrive, and has to stop for another thirty before the feds turn up to take the vamps away. Then they all go around letting the victims out, and dragging the ones who have gone into pointless-defense-mechanism-sleep. Mouse helps, though she purposefully avoids Mitz’s box. She feels horrible, but it’s better than being the one who pulls him out into the light. She justifies it by settling on the thought of that maybe sending the wrong message.

Hi, I broke your heart but here I am to save your life, come huddle in my arms. Ugh, fate is a bitch. Decisions are bitches. Responsibility is a bitch. Everything is a cold, hard bitch.

Mouse watches the feds go through the vampire’s paperwork, answering questions and giving answers to things they’re too dumb to ask and making sure they do the whole thing right. She watches when they pull out the deed for the warehouse. One of them says “Well, this is seized for a start” and as soon as he’s said it, scores of legit and legal vampires are suddenly there.

Mouse has a stake in her hand before she can blink. Trained reflexes be damned, most of her badassery comes from good, honest Slayer instinct.

After she’s put her stake away, she gets the feds to holster their guns. Fact of the matter is that a lot of the weres in the city have friends, lovers and bosses who are vampires. There’s nothing she can do about the feds wanting to question the arriving vampires and even put them on suspect lists. That’s way above her pay-grade.

Snooze finds her moments after she’s walked away from that particular clusterfuck. He looks freaked. It’s always disturbing when vampires look freaked.

“Where is he?” Snooze demands.

Mouse sighs. “What, no hello?” she says tiredly. The look on his face tells her how much patience he has for quips, which is a little disappointing. “He’s in the first aid area, over there.” She points. “He should be fine.”

“Should?” Snooze echoes, incredulous. “Should. I see.” He turns to walk away but, like always, his tone of voice rubs Mouse the wrong way. It’s been a long night and she might have a bone or two to pick with him.

“Are you seriously mad at me because he got taken?” she calls after him. He stops and half turns, but doesn’t face her. “Because I think this might have more to do you with you than it has with me, douchebag.”

“I do blame you, on a level,” Snooze replies. His voice is even and reasonable. It makes Mouse so mad. He can’t even fight the right way. “I could not find him. No-one could find their pommes. Their smells were hidden and this location was locked away by odd rules. But keeping him safe is as much your job as it is my own.”

“My job is keeping everyone safe. I can’t focus all my efforts on an ex.”

“And is that what he is, now?” Snooze finally turns to face her. “Truly, Mouse. I would like to know. Would you protect him as you would a perfect stranger?”

“Of course I would,” Mouse scoffs.

“And would you protect him as you would an ex-lover? Or someone you love?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Are you ignoring him because you love him still or because you are now exes and he is not worth your time?” He raises an eyebrow at her. Challenging her. Mouse’s insides run cold.

“Fuck you,” Mouse says very clearly, meeting his eyes because she can. “Fuck everything you just said and fuck what you think about me. You don’t know me. Do you understand that? You don’t fucking know me. Stop pretending that you do.”
Snooze looks at her for a moment longer than people usually do. His expression doesn’t change. His stupid, perfect black eyes don’t move from her own and it’s more annoying than anything. Eventually, after what feels like an age, his weight shifts slightly and he looks away. “My mistake,” he says, sounding anything but contrite.

Mouse shakes when he walks away. She killed undead tonight and it’s one moment of confrontation that gets her adrenaline pumping. She’s fucked. Watching Snooze’s back, she makes sure he goes straight to Mitz. He does. They hug. Mitz presses his face to Snooze’s shoulder.

Mitz looks like hell. He was in that box for longer than a few hours, that much is obvious. It raises a few questions about him and Snooze and her and how much the vampires and weres trust her these days. It raises a bunch of questions about how much she’s paying attention. It raises some questions about whether or not Mara is right about her phoning it in.

So much for sleeping like a baby tonight.
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sinistra_blache
RESIDENT VILLAIN SYMPATHISER
RESIDENT VILLAIN SYMPATHISER

Posts : 18300
Join date : 2012-02-21
Age : 29
Location : Earth

Character sheet
Name: Mitz Stillhaven
Age: 21
Class: Engineer

http://filibuster-vigilantly.tumblr.com

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