Lessons Michael Vaughn really should have learned by now:
Do not go out into the streets. Ever. Really. It's just a bad idea at this point, but dumb Boy Scouts are dumb and do not know when to say no.
Or maybe that's just Vaughn.
Because he's out, again. Without a weapon. Just tromping the streets, practically looking for trouble. The narration
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Right now, there is a demon in an alley. She's been hiding ever since her run-in with the cops several weeks ago, on the lam with Logan and not getting out of this city until she's had her way with Ms. Sydney Bristow. Bitch has her face, bitch has to pay.
And Ms. Bristow hasn't contacted her yet, which means Missy's looking to make good on her promise to start taking her annoyance out on her friends... And oh what ho? Is that Boyfriend walking down the street?
She blends into the shadows, waits until Vaughn is just past the mouth of the alley, and then jerks him inside with her, holding him steady with a switchblade to his throat.
"Hi, Boyfriend."
...Yeah, Vaughn. Not your best day ever.
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And it's when he's screwed that he gets to be his stupidest. Yes, stupidest. It's the only word that accurately descibes him.
"I'm. NOT. Your. BOYFRIEND!" he growls between gritted teeth, foregoing the 'oh my god I'm going to die' thought in favor of the 'struggle uselessly!' action. "Get off me, you stupid bitch."
Yes, he's pulling out the big guns. Ooo, words.
...He's so going to die.
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She has no intention of killing him. She just needs him a little bit bloody.
"How's my double these days? Did she think I was bluffing? Well, tell sweetness that she's got another thing coming."
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"Leave Sydney the fuck alone," he growls. "Or I will find a way to kill you, you bitch. I don't care what it takes. I don't care. I hunt you down, and you will be dead."
He's shaking with rage now. He's going to kill her. He is. He's sick of this bitch messing with his life and he wants her dead.
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This is why you don't go weaponless, Vaughn. It never ends well for you.
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He glares up at Missy with as much hate as he can manage (which is quite a lot, for a stupid Boy Scout).
"Oh, you've got bitch right," he says, then tries to spit in her fact. Because he's really not thinking clearly at this point, and he just wants to get under her skin a teeny tiny bit.
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She kneels down a little closer, pressing the edge of the knife against his elbow and balancing her weight on the heel that's currently digging into his sternum. Be so very, very glad you're almost indestructible, Vaughn. "You keep that up and I'll just forget about not killing you. Sweetness can have your eyes first." She lets the blade hover over his eye, before moving it down. "And then your tongue." She presses the blunt end of the blade against his lips. "And from there...."
She lets the knife hover over his chest where his heart is located. "A bit tacky and unoriginal, I guess, but I like classics."
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"I'd go with very unoriginal," he snaps. "Really, you'd kill me just off the bat like that? I'd think a bitch like you would want to drag it out a little more. There are plenty of other things you could do to me before cutting out my heart."
Yes, that's a challenge.
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She flicks the knife a few times, showing off her dexterity and then grabs the collar of his shirt and slices through the collar, still keeping her balance before tearing the cloth away from a space around his chest. That out of the way she presses the knife to his chest and starts carving her initials with a bit of a flourish- M.A. It's not too deep, but it'll hurt and it'll bleed and that's what matters.
That finished, she flips the knife closed and grins. "Tell Sydney Bristow that she's got a week. If she's not downtown in the earthquake district a week from now, the next time you don't get off so easy."
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He glares at her. "What if I don't tell her anything?" he spits at her again, a mix of blood and saliva this time. "And then what? You're going to kill me? Come on." He shakes his head at her.
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"Oh. One more thing."
She's got a gun in her backpocket and out it comes, long enough for Vaughn to see what it is just before she whacks him across the head with it.
Nighty night, Vaughn.
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