Special Branch: The Execution of Vixen Goddard
POSTED BY: SoulOfSerenity
UPDATED: Tuesday, February 1, 2011 15:54
VIEWED: 29582
PAGE 7 of 7
OOC: WYSB, i know you talked about doing a SB poster for Clayton, but in the meantime i've created my own using the same site. Still interested in seeing yours though.
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Kyra and Luthor talked about many things - trivial things such as work and shopping, about money and maintenance; they watched the stations together, laughing at the chatshow host's jokes and made mocking statements about the newsreader's style of moustache; they argued, they made-up, they teased, they made love. Clayton Payne heard it all. He wasn't ashamed, nor did he feel that he ought to have been.
His visit the day before had allowed him to plant bugs around their home; at the back of their video screen; left more bugs and motion sensors discreetly by their front porch - it was for their own safety, and of course so Clayton could sleep easy at night. He didn't. In fact, he may have left their house but he hadn't gotten far. He'd set up station in his car down the road, off the dirt track. Through the trees he might have been able to see the way the sunlight bounced off of the lake, but instead he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the treetrunk ahead of him - no distractions.
Occasionally he'd close his eyes, the sounds of Kyra and Clayton's homelife whispering into his ears, but he didn't fall into a deep sleep, he couldn't. He simply listened and waited. He could have been waiting all his life - there was no way of saying for sure if Needy would ever find them - but still he waited.
Until his phone rang.
"Payne," he said into the speaker, turning the microphone volume down and resigning himself to watching the red and yellow bars on his monitor go up and down to the muted sounds of the couple's voices.
"You're needed on Ariel," the voice said on the other line.
"Sir?" Clayton responded. He recognised the man's voice when he heard it - Colonel Youngblood had been the one to take a chance and offer Payne a position with the CS in the first place.
"Mr Green requests your presence for a special task," Youngblood told him. "He believes you may hold certain information that would be invaluable to him and his men."
"Ariel?" Clayton thought out loud. He stared at the monitoring system set up beside him in the car and thought of Kyra, but more importantly of her friends. He didn't need to be told what mission was being referred to.
"Is that a problem?" the Colonel responded.
"Well," Clayton began, "I'm sort of in the middle of something important right now."
"No, you're not," the voice told him. "Nothing you're doing is important, because we haven't assigned you anything for today."
Clayton knew better than to argue, and he knew he couldn't tell his superior the reasons why he couldn't leave the post. But he wondered for a moment whether the truth would be a good option at this point. The Crimson Squad wanted Bernard Needham, and Clayton wanted Kyra kept safe.
But it would never go how he wanted it. And Clayton certainly wouldn't be used in such an "important" assignment. Chances are, he'd never see Kyra again, and neither would Luthor.
"Certainly sir," he eventually responded.
"Good," Youngblood replied. "Don't make me regret bringing you on board. I'll send the details to your onboard. They're expecting you now so you better get moving, Xiansheng's a long way from home."
"Yes sir, I'm just leaving," Clayton said, firing up his engine as he says the words.
"Good man, I'll let him know you're on your way."
Clayton hung up the phone and stared at the monitor. It would still work on long distance, but even so, listening in would do no good if they were in trouble. And so, before he pulled away from the dirt road and headed for his shuttle, he placed one more call, this time to a trusted associate. It helped to have sou
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“This is it then” Vixen said to herself as the noose was placed around her neck. Even to the very last she hoped against hope that someone would come and save her. But a life spent looking after number one had left her with nobody willing to look out for her. Maybe if she’d done it differently someone would come for her. Maybe someone would care? She looked around the square at the hatred and fear in the eyes of the crowd. Hundreds upon hundreds of people had come to watch her die. They didn’t even know her. They spat and cursed and screamed for the blood of a woman they’d never met. Vixen was the first to admit that she probably deserved most of it but she could have just as easily been innocent of all her charges. They could have any girl up here as a scapegoat, someone to die so everyone else gets to feel safe. Her death would give all these people false hope, false confidence, false security. They would all go home tonight and feel a little better knowing that justice was being done. Even though deep down they knew that the government were monitoring their phones, reading their mail, keeping track of everywhere they went. Be quiet, don’t make a fuss and let the government keep taking away privacies and civil liberties in the name of security. Vixen could see it and she wondered why they didn’t see it. The real crime that they were executing her for was failing to fill the universal mould they wanted everyone to be. She wanted freedom, and that made her dangerous.
An uptight white collar came onto the stage and took up the microphone. He started spouting some political tripe about evil and justice. Everything people like to hear from a politician. They know its all lies but it still makes them feel better.
“Tolerate no more” she heard him say. That was the queue. This was the end. She closed her eyes and waited for the noose to tighten and the floor disappear. But instead she heard screams and shouting. Opening her eyes her vision was clouded with dense black smoke swirling about in all directions. Could someone be rescuing her? Could someone have cared? She recognised a series of pops and thumps as silenced shots and bodies hitting floors.
“Vixen its Wisp, Arms out and don’t breathe” her knees went faint. ‘He came’ she thought to herself. The battle of emotions raged within her. To show love and look weak or stay hard and tough and don’t risk getting hurt. Now what was he doing? Her jumpsuit was being turned from bright orange to some glossy black. Clever but messy.
“You’ve been shot sit down and shut up” he placed the executioner’s hood over her head forcefully. It smelt of sweat, blood and cheap cologne. She wasn’t sure which was worse. It also blocked her already greyed vision
“You shouldn’t have come” She managed. It wasn’t everything she felt but It was everything she could say.
“That’s not shutting up is it?” He got like this when he was working. His mind raced a mile a minute; you could see it behind his eyes. He was thinking of every contingency, escape plan, and worse case scenario that could happen in the next minute. It made him exceptional at crime; he was wasted in this hero business. She heard rotor blades above her, soldiers dropping onto the wooden deck.
“Don’t Shoot! I'm a guard! They took the girl over the side heading east. The executioner’s injured I need to get him off this stage.” Jesus Wisp had some Gorram balls pulling this one. She was sure It wouldn’t work but before she knew it they were marching off the stage. As the moved further from the smoke she gradually began to see more light. Wisp was moving at the fastest pace he dared take her but she wanted to run away much faster. Every second spent in this square surrounded by stranger baying for her blood terrified her. She heard the radio in Wisps ear chatter over the crowds screams:
“Oh Gosa. All teams eyes up for a guard supporting a hooded woman dressed all in black. They’ll have my ass for this”
They started to move faster. Nigh on running through the throngs of people. They’d come so far but it was only a
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OOC: Absolutely Brilliant post "Vixen", i loved it
Also guys was thinking probably due a new thread soon, any ideas for titles? I was thinking "Rebirth" or "Born Again" might suit the Soul story, along with the fact that many characters are now taking a new look at their life. Or maybe something like "Back in Black"
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Liam looked at his watch and noted the time. He was late, again.
The large building had been abandoned a long time ago, but Liam remembered when it was still in use - it had been a library once upon a time, and he'd spent many hours here alone, back when he still had dreams of being a lawyer. It was a lifetime ago. But now he was back here, staring at the grey walls - the light from the street lamps outside shone through the windows, but not much.
It was dark and cold in here. And Liam felt old. The room was empty - no desks remained, no posters, and certainly no computer screens. Not even a book stood on this ground any more. Just him. Liam Torne. Alone.
"Did you call her?" a voice called out, startling him.
Liam turned and shook his head, "Gorram it Janti, you about gave me a heart-attack."
As Janti stepped forward out of the dark, Liam could see a small grin on his face. The man looked well, healthy - certainly a lot healthier than the man that had been brought before him on the day they first met. Fifteen, as he had then been known, was skinny and sombre-looking, with a blank stare that could disturb the hardest of federal officers. Now, if one was to look at him in the daylight, they would see a seemingly well adjusted man, still slim but toned, with a nice tan,and fine tattoos etched along his arms. They might never have imagined this man had once been a man imprisoned, a former assassin acting upon the orders of an secret organisation.
Now he was just Janti, and he was the only man that Liam Torne still trusted.
"You call her?" he asked the politician again. His tone was friendly but firm.
Liam shook his head. "She doesn't want to talk to me."
"It's not about what she wants," Janti answered. "It's about what you both need."
Liam sighed heavily, before breaking his serious composure with a false smile. "I don't suppose you brought any beers."
Janti pursed his lips, "I don't make a habit of drinking on the job."
"Sure," Liam mocked playfully.
Neither of them seemed willing to address the elephant in the room, the real reason why they were there. Liam knew it was necessary, it seemed to be the only option left open to him, but it didn't make it any easier. There was nothing else he could do. His hands had been tied in office and the more power he seemed to achieve, the tighter the ropes became. He'd tried to have it both ways, like Gabriella had, like others loyal to the Resistance had. But it hadn't achieved a gorram thing. Every which way he looked at it, the answer was always the same: Do what the others have done; leave it all behind and do what is needed."Whatever it takes." That had been the motto, always had been, but now he understood it better than ever.
"So how you wanna play this?" Janti asked.
"Me?" Liam said, confused. Janti had already explained the plan - get Torne away from Hera, get new papers, and secure him a ride to Ariel. He would do what he could from there, with a new identity that would see him "join" the Crimson Squad as one of their own. If he couldn't change the system from the office, then he'd tear it down from within and start over.
"Yes, you," Janti replied. "You want to call your daughter now or not?"
Liam bit his lip. He knew he should. He might never get another chance to, to say he's sorry, to tell her that he was wrong. But he'd tried. He'd lost count of how many times he'd picked up the phone only to put it down again. Some things were just too dif
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OOC: Wisp, that was awesome! And holy crap, Needy! This thread is still so awesome.
I vote for "Back in Black"!!!
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OOC: WHOA!! This story is fantastic! I feel like I'm hardly contributing anything. What amazing story arcs!
I vote for 'From the Ashes' and my second vote is for Back in Black and Rebirth.
Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels
http://drlong67.wordpress.com
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I vote Back in Black so I can play the song every time I post
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Vankeetsen’s office was a stunning testament to Earth that was decoration. Thick hand-woven carpets rolled from wall to wall in deep Maroon and Brown. The wall’s were paneled in rich Mahogany and interrupted with classic paintings from long dead artists. The back wall however was a full reinforced force glass with a stunning view of deep space. In front of this Vankeetsen sat looming over a solid oak desk imposing his authority over the room. Vankeetsen himself was in his late 50’s with light brown hair graying slightly at the temples. He was tall, thin, and lean that had come from years of hard work, exercise, and organizing other people’s deaths. He spoke with an epic sort of voice that seemed to be able to resonate across mountain ranges at even a whisper. It never changed tone or volume no matter what emotions bubbled behind it. Wisp stood looking at this imposing view after being summoned for an unknown reason.
“You know Wisp when you first joined my organization you really excelled yourself. I saw untold revenues from sectors that before had barely broken even. Your technical expertise rippled through to every business I had going. I mean, I’m currently the Alliances most wanted crime lord and I owe most of that to contributions from you.” Vankeetsen stood up and looked out of his window “But you seem to have grown stagnant here Wisp. My cortex incomes growths have been slowly dropping over the past few months and I’ve seen fewer and fewer new technologies come out of your workshop. So it comes to me that there must be something you must be unhappy with.”
“Well you see, you kidnapped me from a perfectly quiet little life back on Osiris to work for your organization. And I came and I worked. Hell I didn’t even just fill time; I gave you a fantastic income system and some great techs for any excursions you plan. And I was kinda hoping you might let me go some time soon”
Vankeetsen began to laugh, one of those deep evil laughs that starts as a quiet titter and grows into a crescendo of booming cackle that echoes around the room. “Oh William” Wiping a tear from his eye “how you make me laugh. This is how it’s going to happen boy. You’re going to keep on making me rich and powerful, and if I think for a second that you’re screwing me over I’m going to put you in a world of pain. I’ve come too far for a little squirt like you to hold me to ransom, and if you keep on disobeying me you’re going to end this little life of yours. So keep on pumping out those new technologies of yours and enjoy your life of luxury”
“I actually have another technology for you. It’s called a wire. That’s broadcasting this entire conversation to an Alliance attack squad that’s going to come in here and arrest you smarmy ass any minute now”
The mirth fell from Vankeetsen’s face like a lead mirror shattering his dreams upon the plush carpets. “Your bluffing” In answer sirens began bellowing around him and his intercom burst into the noise of dozens of underlings screaming about incoming Police. “You little GOSA!” Vankeetsen jumped across his desk lunging at Wisps throat, unfortunately falling short and landing in the space in-between where Wisp easily managed to land a kick to his throat.
“I quit”
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OOC: I'm loving the posts highlighting Wisp's backstory!
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She'd never kidded herself into believing that she was a good person. It wasn't that she'd set out to be mean towards others; or cold; or harsh. It was just the way things had gone. And whether she liked it or not, that was the image that she'd made for herself.
She'd left home before her sixteenth birthday, ran away with a man twice her age. It wasn't just for the thrill of it - she certainly didn't love him - it was because she knew how much it would anger her mother. She did it as a slap in the face, for all the slaps that she'd received from her. From one miserable home to another, she kept running, hoping to find that illusive reason to stay. She jumped between her homeworld of Alexandria to Regina and back again. She moved all over, even found herself married to a husband at one time. But it never lasted. The longest she'd stayed in a place was for six months. And then she found herself on Boros and secured a job at the Boros Bound, her first and last legitimate job as Kyra McTaggert. The uncle of her then-partner had gotten her the job as a favour to her, and for once she played nice. She had to. She'd grown tired of running. She was twenty five. And then she met Bernie.
It was just a job at first, an opportunity to make her name. It was a simple write up, that's all, but not for him. It could ruin him. But that was the point. It was a test. If he was foolish enough to trust her then it would prove the Editor's long-held opinion - that the Guild wasn't as secure an organisation as they made it out to be. Kyra used him, she lied to him, she almost ruined him. But she'd loved him. For once she'd found a reason to stay, a person to stay for. And she'd used him up and threw him away. She didn't deserve pity, she didn't deserve anything. And yet he found her again. And he forgave her. She thought he would be her redemption. If he could forgive her, maybe she could turn her life around. Maybe she could forgive herself. But that was a long time ago. The truth was, Bernie wasn't her redemption. He couldn't even save himself.
And then there was Luthor. She'd first met him barely a week after she had settled on Xiangsheng. He wasn't shy in making known his feelings for her, but she hadn't wanted to get involved. Not just because she was already living a lie - changing her name to Emma Roberts was a necessary step to getting away from Bernie - but because she knew she didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve happiness - call it her own self-imposed punishment. But Luthor's tenacity and determination was hard to ignore. And the closer they got to each other, the stronger her feelings became. She wanted to tell him the truth, but it would be another year before she told him everything. But meeting and, in turn, falling for him turned her around. Maybe she wasn't destined to live her life on her own. Maybe Luthor could bring her back into the light, could redeem her where Bernie couldn't. Maybe he was the one she was meant for after all.
The past few months she'd tried to take control of her life. She'd tried to stop pushing people away, even made some friends at the office, something she'd never really succeeded in at the Boros Bound. But when Clayton contacted her, all those memories had come flooding back, and the real person that she had been running away from all this time - herself - returned.
Kyra McTaggert had been a selfish woman, always had been. She'd never done anything in her life that didn't in some way benefit her. Even helping Bernie had been a selfish venture, when she thought about it. She wanted to help him because she felt bad within herself. It was never about him. Even now, when she missed him, she wondered why. What was the real reason why she had felt so devoted to him in the first place? Was it love? Or was it simply because he served as a reminder of who she really was? That being
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