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Gestalt
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"I thought a
bitch would know what a dog looks like."
A laugh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. A smile that looks like it had been made with a single curving cut of a knife. "Ah, sorry, I appear to have mis-spoken. After all, dogs have many redeeming qualities; they're loyal guardians, constant companions, hard workers... Useful animals, in all. To call the pack of you 'dogs' would be to
degrade dogs."
An ice-cold look. A face like flint. "I
see... How insensitive of me, then, to comment on your
heritage."
Over your head, Evangeline and Uncle are trading increasingly pointed barbs; Eva's, naturally, start to edge into being race-related, while Uncle seems to have a limitless amount of ways of questioning someone's sexuality and parentage. Meanwhile, you're stuck right where you are, Eva's hands on your shoulders, and all-too aware of the rising tensions in the room. The guards to either side subtly changing their posture, getting ready to draw the pistols hidden beneath their jackets, while the ABB hopefuls stirred, itching for a fight.
You are, to put it politely,
fucked. The oncoming shitstorm that you'll be inevitably drawn into is entirely out of your control. You're helpless and you
hate it.
Or are you? There's a very simple solution to this problem, and, let's face it; the world would be a better place if all of these people were to drop dead. Especially Auntie Fucking Eva. Cut down the gangsters. Turn. And then-
No. Evangeline is a horrible person, but if you start killing your own family you might as well toss your Gem into the Bay. You're faster and stronger than anyone here. You can use that. Pull out of Evangeline's grasp. Tell her this is something you'd rather handle on your own.
Nice try, but how can you be sure that Eva will leave her favorite niece alone with any of the gangsters here, let alone all of them? You need to de-escalate this by playing into her way of thinking; tell Auntie Eva they're not worth it. Something along the lines of "Tante, these untermenschen are nothing, and we both have better things to do."
You are not going to cozy up to that fucking-!
Thankfully, you're saved from having to enact any of those terrible ideas by your instincts
screaming at you. Your arms snap up to cover your face just as someone
drops down between you and the ABB line, sending splinters of cracked concrete all around from the impact. The guards step back, swearing, and the ABB hopefuls stumble backwards to the tune of even less polite language. Evangeline merely
blinks, and Uncle doesn't even flinch.
Crouched in a three-point landing, platinum-blonde hair and red cape swirling around in her wake, and the new subject of everyone's attention, is none other than Glory Girl, who looks almost
indecently pleased with herself. She stands up, and then rises another inch above the ground, brushing imaginary dust from the sleeve of her dress.
On one hand, you
like Glory Girl. On the other,
the last thing you need now is a Cape.
"So!" she begins, hands on her hips, directing a steely gaze towards both the ABB line and your general direction. "What seems to be the problem here?"
Seeing the opportunity, faint and ephemeral as it is, you seize it with both hands. "Nothing!" You immediately answer, "Nothing. Er..." You pause, as Glory Girl focuses on you, and gesture at both yourself and Uncle. "There was a
misunderstanding," you continue, putting particular emphasis on that last word. "But it's all cleared up, and we're
all gonna be on our way."
It takes both adults an
instant to get what you're doing.
"An unfortunate error in communication," Uncle offers, in the vocal equivalent of a poker face. "It will not happen again."
"Nothing one of our heroes needs to worry about," Evangeline adds, her voice all cheers and smiles and warmth, although from the little
squeeze she gives you can tell that the lie was painful for her, "Sorry for wasting your time."
Glory Girl looks... well,
less than convinced. Her eyes narrow, and you dump the sudden spark of nerves into your Gem before it reaches your face. For once, you're glad that Evangeline is smart enough to refrain from carrying anything
incriminating on her person (except for the contents of her brain) and insist that anyone accompanying her do the same; the only thing pointing to her guards being E88 are the shaved heads, which are far from a smoking gun. Uncle looks perfectly ordinary, and the ABB hopefuls are just kids trying to look tough in a nasty neighborhood.
Of course, that's all a load of bull. A veneer, propped up by the fact that none of you are actually doing anything
illegal, that gives everyone just enough room to argue that they
aren't what they are. Victoria, of course,
knows this, but without anything concrete, she can't-
A wave of
something washes over you. Brushing over and through you in a way that reminds you of a Barrier, and you almost summon your Gem to check for a Witch. Everyone in the alley, from the wannabe-gangsters, to the guards, to even Uncle and Evangeline, all
stiffen.
"
Bullshit."
Glory Girl's pronouncement immediately crushes your hopes that this would end right there.
She gestures towards Uncle and the kids with him. "You assholes," she starts, "came here looking for a fight, in a neighborhood that everyone
knows the Empire and the ABB are fighting over, while wearing ABB colors, and if the old man doesn't have Yakuza tats under that suit I'll eat my tiara."
Uncle frowns, minutely, even as you see his body shift, almost casually, into a different stance. Wider, lower. The ABB hopefuls with him take a step back. Some sheepishly hide chains, pipes and bats. Credit to them, none of them bolt.
"And those two," she gestures at the two men to either side of you, "
dickheads, are packing heat, and I've beat enough skinheads to know what one looks like." A smirk. "Nice try, though."
You feel one of Evangeline's guards twitch, his hand reaching for his piece, stopping when your Aunt tells him to stay
put with a harsh hiss pushed through clenched teeth. You realize, somewhat to your surprise, that her grip on you has grown vice-like, and she's no longer directly behind you, but slightly to your left. Her body is tense, like a coiled spring.
(You, suddenly, remember strong hands pulling you up off the ground, away from something dangerous.)
Part of you is vaguely impressed that she managed to see through the smokescreen, tenuous as it is. Another part is pointing out that, even though she's
technically right in what she's saying, none of her evidence would hold up anywhere in court. A third notes the dark irony that, had you been in Glory Girl's shoes, you'd be doing
exactly this.
The rest of you wants to go back home and crawl back into your bed because, clearly, this day is a lost cause.
Uncle meets Glory Girl's gaze with one that looks carved from a glacier. "Bold claims," he tells her. "To summarize...You accuse me and these youths of being criminals due to
their choice of fashion, and for bringing means to defend ourselves from the hateful
filth that infests this neighborhood?" There's an undercurrent of
accusation when he tells her that, and Glory Girl
bristles.
Evangeline doesn't give her a chance to rally. "And your evidence towards my bodyguards being, quote, 'skinheads', unquote, is that they... shave their heads," she piles on, and you can feel her glee. "Oh, dear, even your mother would ask that you try a little
harder than that."
The Cape glares, and you, distantly, feel that pressure
increase. The guards stumble back on shaking legs, but Evangeline just
smiles.
"The blonde midget's totally a fucking Nazi, though."
The statement comes from one of the people in the back of the ABB line. You recognize him as one of the ones that Randall had brought with him when you beat him senseless. Glory Girl turns towards him, and so does Uncle, although he does it with a deliberate slowness that makes everyone around his target move
away.
Something inside you
snaps.
"Shut up." Pull out of Evangeline's grip. "Shut the
fuck up." Start walking. Towards
that idiot. "You BASTARD WASTE OF FUCKING OXYGEN!
DO I NEED TO CRACK YOUR FUCKING SKULL-!"
Several things happen at once.
In your tunnel vision, you'd completely forgotten Glory Girl. The Cape turns, sees you trying to get
past her with hostile intent, and does what she's supposed to do: try to stop you from beating
the idiot to an inch of his
stupid life.
Left, down!
Your instincts bring the arm in the corner of your vision into razor-sharp focus. Swinging up, fingers curled into a fist. You dig your heels in, and come to a halt just as you grab her wrist with your left hand. The impact stings the palm of your hand, and it takes a moment for you to realize that you're not really
touching Glory Girl; there's a hard, smooth
nothing keeping your grasp a millimetre or so away from her.
It takes you another moment to realize that her swing hadn't been aimed at
you, but at a spot in
front of where your head would've been if you'd kept walking, which would've resulted in you quite literally walking into her fist face-first.
With deliberate slowness, you turn your head to look up at her. Glory Girl's expression goes from flippant confidence, to mild confusion, to something that you strongly suspect mirrors your own face. A veneer of deliberate, painstaking calm that doesn't
quite reach the eyes.
The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.
"Let go," she tells you.
[] "No."
[] Tighten your grip. "No."
[] Say nothing. Stare her down. Don't let go.
[] You've got enough on your plate with Shadow Stalker. Deep breaths. Calm down.
-[] Keep your grip on her. Slowly step back. Then let go. Do not break eye contact.
-[] Let go. Silently communicate that you're only letting go because you want to.
-[] Just let go, for Christ's sake.
