St. Hap's Coffeehouse: Comment Fic Free-for-All
Alright, so we're going to give this a go.
St. Happenstance's Coffeehouse and Home for Wayward Plot Bunnies presents, for your enjoyment:
A Comment Fic Free-For-All
The rules:
Rules? Who needs 'em!
The point here is to roll around in some words and have fun. Are you stuck on your Nano? Does your daily word count feel like a millstone around your neck ( Read more... )
St. Happenstance's Coffeehouse and Home for Wayward Plot Bunnies presents, for your enjoyment:
A Comment Fic Free-For-All
The rules:
Rules? Who needs 'em!
The point here is to roll around in some words and have fun. Are you stuck on your Nano? Does your daily word count feel like a millstone around your neck ( Read more... )
The last bullet - Mikey Way, gen, Killjoys 'verse
It’s been thirty two hours since they threw Mikey into this prison cell. He knows this because the guards outside change every eight hours and when they do they open the little window on the door to check he’s still alive. It’s opened four times and four times eight is thirty two. The one good thing about this bullshit homogenized everything by the fucking rules society is it makes it easy to tell the passing of time.
Thirty two hours in the cell, maybe another five or six on top of that since they captured him. Mikey figures it’s been nearer to forty since he last had anything to eat or drink. His mouth feels as dry as the desert he can’t wait to get back to and his stomach aches from being empty, but being hungry and thirsty is nothing new, Mikey is used to dealing with both of them.
He also used to a lack of sleep so thirty three maybe thirty four hours since he last closed his eyes is nothing. He passed out for a while when they were working him over so at least there’s that. Right now, Mikey will take rest any way he can.
The cell is five by five. Not big enough for him to lie down on the floor flat out but plenty big enough for him to sit propped up against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. The walls are stark white as is the floor and the ceiling, all lit by an ultra bright light that flickers and strobes at random intervals. There’s white noise pumped in from a speaker up in the ceiling, a hum that rises and falls in volume and pitch, constant and unrelenting like the worst kind of tinnitus.
Mikey knows it’s all designed to break him. Make him offer up secrets as he begs for it to stop. But fuck that, he’s the goddamned Kobra Kid, it’ll take more than some old fashioned parlor tricks to get him to spill his guts. Mikey will take his secrets to the grave if he has to, and he’s not afraid to die.
And anyway, it’s not like he’ll be here for much longer. He figures it’ll be one more guard change at the most before the others come busting in with rayguns blasting to inject a little color into this drab and dreary world. Korse told him they were dead, showed him picture of bodies laid out in the desert sun, but Mikey doesn’t believe him. He can spot a tricked up picture when he sees one and Korse didn’t even bother to make decent fakes.
The lights start to strobe again as the door to the cell opens. Mikey looks up expecting to see the flash of Gerard’s hair, but it’s Korse, standing impassive in the doorway flanked by a couple of Dracs with the guns leveled at Mikey’s head. Mikey gets the message - no sudden movements, don’t try anything or you’re dead, so he doesn’t, just matches Korse stare for unblinking stare.
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Mikey ignores it. There’s no point in making a dive for it so he can use it on Korse. The Dracs would take him down before he got so much as a fingertip to the barrel. So he waits Korse out because there’s no fucking way that Mikey is going to be the one to speak first.
Korse looks at the gun and then at Mikey, his lip curling into a sneer again as he says, "There’s one shot left in it. Once this door closes it won’t open again until you’re dead, I suggest you make it quick."
Mikey doesn’t respond, just shows Korse his middle finger and goes back to staring at the wall, not even looking up when the cell door closes again.
Once he’s alone, Mikey stands and walks over to the gun and picks it up. He checks the charge meter and, yeah, for once Korse was telling the truth, there’s enough power left for one shot and one shot only. Mikey considers his options then raises the raygun and carefully takes aim.
The light in the ceiling explodes when the blast hits it, sparks raining down as the cell is plunged into darkness. The noise stops as well just like Mikey was hoping it would, he’d figured the speaker was part of the same fixture when he was pacing the cell earlier trying to listen out for where the sound was loudest.
Mikey curls up on the floor in the corner furthest from the door and waits for Frank and Gerard and Ray. He reckons he’s got about eight hours or so until they get here and at least now he can get some sleep.
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This is fierce and gorgeous. Mikey's POV is sharp, all edges - very fitting for a Killjoy. I love the snap of the interaction between he and Korse. Kickass use of the prompt, darling.
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You know how I go reading badfic because at least they write things I want to read, even if they do so in an OTT fashion. And here's you, posting stuff like this which is amazing and written beautifully and I love it so much.
I can't even say how much. It's like, your Mikey is so strong and has so much faith in his guys and I love that combination.
I could read many more thousands of words of this, but fear if it happened I would die of sheer love.
But I don't care. Because what I way to go.
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When I was writing this I was thinking about that interview where Mikey described the Kobra Kid as a brash hot-head so I'm glad his faith and his strength comes across well.
I was saying to T the other day that I like writing in the Killjoys 'verse because it's the perfect combination of FPF/S and RPF/S so maybe there will be more at some point (once I'm done with other things).
<333333
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Unwavering faith in his band FTW.
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