Special Branch: The Execution of Vixen Goddard
POSTED BY: SoulOfSerenity
UPDATED: Tuesday, February 1, 2011 15:54
VIEWED: 29582
PAGE 4 of 7
“The way I figure, if we meet up with him, that’s what they’re expecting. But, if we wait, they’ll consider us dead or lost or whatever and focus solely on Wisp.” Safe scratched his boot in the filth of the alleyway while Seryn grinned at him, giving him a quick punch in the shoulder.
The second smile in a short period of time crept onto his face which made Seryn grin even wider.
“Seryn, you’re gonna be the death of my reputation, you know that right?” Safe looked at her sideways, the smile broadening.
“Reputation?” Her eyebrow ached.
Laughter finally broke through and Safe couldn’t stop it. It bubbled up from some forgotten place and overflowed like a shaken soda pop and seemed to go on forever.
Finally able to gasp a breath, Safe wiped laugh tears from him face and cleared his throat, “It’s been too long.”
“What about the others?” Seryn asked, finally sober.
“We don’t even know if they’re alive and if they are if they know about this. We can’t risk trying to find them either. That what they want.”
“So we play it by ear?”
“Exactly. It’s the part of the plan I’m none too happy about. I don’t like surprises.”
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Her expression read only too clearly that Seryn wasn't too fond of them either.
"Question is, what do we do with our selves in the meantime?"
Both of them looked out towards the square, scanning the crowds and buildings. She grinned and pointed to a building just in view. "how about we get a room with a view?" Most balconys were filled to capacity with people eager to get a look at the upcoming 'spectacle' but here and there were empty balconies - the rooms vacant or the owners having better seats she guessed.
"Do you fancy a little breaking and entering? "
(and this post was bought to you by being up way past my bed time.)
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Above the moon of Xanthus, One Month after Santos:
“What’s on your mind?” Needy asked her from the cold corner of the ship’s bridge. Kyra had been sat in the co-pilot’s seat staring out into the black. She had flown in the past, but not this time, not this shuttle.
They’d taken it from a yard on Bellerophon. It seemed that Needy had a way of talking the owner there to trading their original shuttle (the one they had stolen from Santos a month earlier) for this one. It was an Encore class shuttle, once attached to the now defunct Ocean Crafts. It’s engine was good - it hadn’t failed on them yet - but it was the most basic ship she had ever flown on. She didn’t let it bother her though, she had other things on her mind.
Kyra didn’t answer. After what had happened on Santos, leaving everybody behind so suddenly, things had felt different. Before, it had been all she could have hoped for, all that she wanted - to be with him, just him. But there was something off. And she felt it wasn’t just what had happened with Clayton, there was something altogether different about the man she was sharing this shuttle with.
They had shared this vessel, they had shared a bed, but that was all. Kyra hadn’t shared her feelings. She thought that it was her. That she was worried about leaving everything behind, too anxious that Needy’s past would come back to haunt them, that they might not ever be able to truly settle down without looking over their shoulder. She thought that all her concerns weighed upon her to the extent that she couldn’t relax, couldn’t look to the future, to any future, without being filled with some sort of dread.
But those thoughts had passed by her now. Instead the nagging feeling that she had ignored for so long now rose to the surface. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe she was feeling this way because her subconscious knew that something was wrong… with him.
Needy had been warm and considerate, always looking for opportunities to prove to her that she was loved, that she didn’t need to think about these things as long as they had each other; that somehow they would make it through together.
But that man that she knew - Bernie - was absent. This man may have occasionally said the right words, words that would have brought her comfort in another life, but they were not heartfelt. They were cold, formal, rehearsed.
As if the man was simply repeating words he’d heard before. Words he had hoped would work.
“Nothing,” she told him, continuing to stare out into space.
She could feel the man approaching her from behind. And even though she had wrapped herself in an thick old blanket - some desperate attempt to keep warm - she felt him rest his hand upon her shoulder.
It fell upon her like the hand of a stringed puppet, resting awkwardly on her.
Yearning for some sort of consolation, some emotional satisfaction, she rested her head upon the hand, her cheek pressing up against his cold dead fingers.
There was nothing there. He might have looked it, he might have acted it, but this man was not alive.
He was a shadow of the man he’d used to be.
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OOC: I'm not sure what anyone has planned for rescuing Vixen, but I had a thought to put out there involving Ciaran. She wants to redeem herself, she can look like other people, even Vixen, and she can be "killed"...
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OOC: I'm not sure what anyone has planned for rescuing Vixen, but I had a thought to put out there involving Ciaran. She wants to redeem herself, she can look like other people, even Vixen, and she can be "killed"...
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OOC: Well if it does turn out that way, it looks like the story could get even more interesting.
---
“Kyra,” Clayton said, snapping her out of her daze. He was crouching, facing the two of them on the sofa. “I know its not easy, believe me I know the last thing you want is to put yourself back there.”
“Then why come here Payne?” she snapped at him suddenly. “Why do you always do this?”
Luthor was about to speak out but Kyra was urged to continue. He let her.
“I can’t do anything, you know that,” she told him straight. “You’re in a better position than I could ever be. What can I do that you can’t?”
Clayton shook his head in disbelief. “You know him.”
“Not anymore,” she quickly retorted.
“You knew him. You were with him.”
Luthor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, considering whether to end this conversation right there and then.
“No,” she replied. “I clearly didn’t.”
Clayton bit his lip and stood up, beginning to walk away from the two of them in frustration, before stopping and quickly turning to face her once more. Luthor had his head down, as if concentrating on remaining still and quiet. Kyra stared at Clayton intently, waiting for his inevitable reply.
“Then why bother? Goddard, Spacer… the others.” He shook his head. “I know you say you want to stay away but why bother in the first place?” He pulled out a scrap of printed paper and unfolded it, slapping it down on the table before them, open.
Needy’s face and the notice that went with it - the obituary that she had put together - now sat condemning her.
“You really think this was helping them?” he said.
“You asked me,” Kyra said, biting the air.
“You thought plastering his face on the signal would help? If anything you just glazed the squad’s trap with a cherry. Were you trying to encourage your friends to show their faces or what?”
“What did you expect me to do?” she bit again.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I had to believe that you had some means of contacting them. Some means that didn’t involve a message being broadcast to the whole gorram verse. A stunt like this makes me think that maybe you want them to get caught, maybe that way this can all be done and dusted.”
Kyra scoffed and shook her head, “You have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I dunno,” Payne continued. “Maybe they deserve what they get. After all, its their fault what happened to Needy, right?”
Kyra stood up and faced her old friend. She wanted to hit him. But by this point, he would have expected it. And where was the satisfaction in giving him what he wanted?
“You should go,” Luthor said as calmly as he could. He was still looking down at the floor but as both Kyra and Clayton looked at him, he raised his head up and slowly got to his feet. He stared at Clayton seriously, not backing down. “I think that would be best.”
Payne looked at the woman then back to her partner. He wasn’t going to win this battle.
“Okay,” he said, nodding reluctantly. He walked around the table and removed his zip-file from the video screen, placing it in his pocket. He left the obituary on the table though - something for Kyra to mull over.
Kyra remained where she stood whilst Luthor followed Clayton out the door.
“I didn’t come looking for trouble,” Payne said to Luthor as he walked, out of earshot from Kyra. “I just wanted to make sure she stayed out of it.”
“Sure,” Luthor replied.
They reached the door and Clayton turned about. “If she doesn’t want me here then I won’t come back,” the Squad’s consultant said. “But it doesn’t mean that he won’t.”
Clayton stepped back, onto the outer door step. “He’s dangerous and if he finds her, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“I can take care of her,” Luthor told him plainly.
“I hope so, for both your sakes,” Payne answered. “But you sense anything wrong, anything off. Don’t think, don’t try to stand your ground and fight. You take her and you run. You’ll stand a better chance that way.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Luthor said as he shut the door in front of the man’
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I'm not sure - wisp seemed to be in control but he's not been around for a few posts. If you have an idea (and its a great idea Soul!) maybe email him?
(and this post was bought to you by being up way past my bed time.)
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OOC- I've had this post written a while I was just waiting till everyone was in position before starting the show. So here we are boys and girls. take your places at the starting line up for The Execution of Vixen Goddard:
“All units report to positions. Prisoner is inbound” The klaxon blared across the square and surrounding area. “Repeat all Units to positions.”
The armoured car pulled up to the edge of the square at a path lined with soldiers on either side. The crowd hurled abuse, stones and rotten matter at the vehicle as it passed through the narrow passage towards the gallows. Wisp watched with great anticipation as the car got closer and closer. Occasionally someone would break through the guard’s lines carrying a placard or sign of some kind usually saying something along the lines of ‘Hang nǐ shì shénme dōngxi”. This would slow the procession as they were forced back into the horde so the Car could continue. Eventually the vehicle pulled up in the centre of the square and Vixen was manhandled from the back. She was shackled at hands and feet dressed in a fetching orange jumpsuit.
“Timing is everything” Wisp muttered to himself. This was the wrong moment. He had to wait for the perfect opportunity or all was lost. Vixen was marched up the stairs with a guard in front and behind her. She was positioned in the centre of the gallows as the executioner, hooded and dressed all in black, measured the noose around her neck. The Planetary mayor of Ariel took to a microphone on the stage calming the audience as the wailed and roared demanding the young woman’s blood. It was well known the Mayor had designs on running for Parliament and was using this execution to promote his hard stance on crime. As he began to make his speech Wisp wished deeply that Soul would appear from the shadows and slit his pompous throat for all to see, or that Safe would put a bullet in his chest from a mile away.
“Ladies and Gentleman please, would you bring your attention to me? For a feast for your eyes to see. An explosion of catastrophe” He waved his hands in all the power gestures that politicians loved to make, as if the will of the people could be swayed by a chop and slash of the hand. “We have before us an example of what is wrong with Society. And we’re here to make an example of she!” He swung his finger round pointing darkly at Vixens throat. “For too long these people have held our lives to Ransom, made us feel unsafe whenever we leave our homes. We draw a line here today with this rebel’s life. We send a message to every other criminal out there who seeks to ruin our way of life. We Will Tolerate No More.” He paused between each word for emphasis. “We will protect our lives, and our homes, and our children! TOLERATE NO MORE” By now the crowd were at fever pitch, roaring the words back at the mayor as he gave the signal to begin the execution.
Now was the moment. Now was the correct time. Wisp detonated the smoke bombs.
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OOC: I tried to post something here, but it doesn't fit yet. Go with what you have planned, and I'll post when the rescue goes south in the square. It will get interesting.
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Back at the building on the edge of the security perimeter, laughter filled the empty apartment as Safe and Seryn ate. The food they had ‘aquired’ from the ornate press box with the balcony with a view, spread out in front of them. They reminisced about the good times, as few as there seemed to be. They laughed at the crowd gathered below as grapes and other various fruit rained down upon them.
But even through the laughter, a nervous tension added an edge to it.
“Did you see the look on that usher’s face?” Seryn blurted out.
Safe’s responding laugh was cut short.
“All units report to positions. Prisoner is inbound” The klaxon blared across the square and surrounding area. “Repeat all Units to positions.”
Instantly the food and the embarrassed usher were forgotten.
Safe looked through the site of the large rifle set-up in the window. Seryn stood at his side.
“So they aren’t coming?” She stated sadly.
“Doesn’t look that way. No movement in the square. Some politician is grand-standing, using Vixen to promote himself, no doubt. You know what to do right?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll lead them here, if there is anyone to lead that is.”
“And I take them to the shuttle on the roof. What happened to your fighter anyway?”
“I followed your lead. It would be too conspicuous. Traded it in on the shuttle.”
“Any sign of Wisp?”
“Nothing yet... wait! Someone set off smoke grenades.”
Seryn bolted for the door.
“Seryn!” Safe called.
She paused.
“Be careful, ok?”
“Is there any other way to be?” Seryn winked at him and descended the stairs to the building’s front door to wait for any arrivals.
Safe squinted through the sight again; the crosshairs lined up on the executioners head. It was all up to Wisp now, all Safe could do, is buy him some space and Seryn to cover their retreat.
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