Application for Jenny Sparks, the Authority
With a sudden flash of light like a bolt of lightning, a blonde woman appears in front of the gates. She appears to be quite young, she's dressed in cargo pants, a green bomber jacket, and a shirt with the Union Jack on it, there's a cigarette perched between her lips, and despite her strange entrance, she seems to be unphased by the sudden arrival.
Jenny looks around slowly, and takes a deep drag of her cigarette. After a few seconds, she takes it out of her mouth and comments to no one in particular "So Disneyland's the sodding afterlife, then. It bloody well figures."
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"And it's Mickey fucking Mouse, too," she adds, still talking to herself. She looks him up and down, and says seriously "I liked you better in the 20s. Say what you want about old Walt, but it's better than being written by some bloody corporate hive mind."
"Jenny Sparks," she says after a moment. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"Well, I don't have one anymore, do I?" she replies, turning to the cat. "Bit hard to, seeing as I'm dead and all. I'll tell you, though, I was really looking forward to a nice long kip in the ground. Who would've thought there'd be life after death? Especially considering I electrocuted God meself not ten minutes ago and everything." She takes another drag of the cigarette and puts her other hand in her pants pocket.
"Bloody inconvenient, s'what this all is."
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
The absolute lack of response to anything she's just said gives Jenny pause. "You're just reading off a script, aren't you? Is there any point to these questions? Determines the right level of Hell for me or something?"
After a few seconds without response, she sighs. "All right then, I'll play along. Just one wish, and it's for people to clean up their acts and be better so people like me can take a sodding break once in a while. How's that?"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
Jenny frowns, growing annoyed at the nonsensical questioning. "I'd tell him to piss off, though it's probably my own fault for going around granting some idiot three wishes in the first place."
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
At that question, Jenny grins. "What kind of revolution are we talking here? I've seen enough of 'em already, believe me. But I'm good enough at getting by." About a half century's worth of military training came in handy sometimes.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Milk, I guess," she says. "White's too sweet and dark's too bitter. But I'd rather have a nice pack of ciggies if you don't mind, I'm almost out." An eternity without something to smoke really would be hell. "As long as I'm making requests no one's listening to over here, anyway."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"Oh, fer Christ sake," Jenny moans. "Most of those things aren't even real or are fucking humans anyway, so it's a bit of a stupid question, isn't it?" She rubs her temple distractedly. "Right, right, Mickey sodding Mouse. Look, all that Harry Potter and comic book shit is all well and good, but ordinary humans are the only ones worth really giving a damn about. Sure, plenty of them are evil sods right enough, but someone's got to look out for them and a crazy old bitch like me might as well be the one."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Glad to be of service," she replies sarcastically. "Now is someone going to tell me where the pub here is, or do I get to take care of everything myself? And no, that all right? I won't consent to any searches, bloody post Gamorra American fascism it is." She takes the cigarette out of her mouth and crosses her arms over her chest with a glare.
((Jenny Sparks is from the comic book series Stormwatch and the Authority. She's taken from the end of Authority #12, post-death. Some spoilers for the early Authority. See Jenny's profile for information on powers and such.))
Jenny looks around slowly, and takes a deep drag of her cigarette. After a few seconds, she takes it out of her mouth and comments to no one in particular "So Disneyland's the sodding afterlife, then. It bloody well figures."
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
"And it's Mickey fucking Mouse, too," she adds, still talking to herself. She looks him up and down, and says seriously "I liked you better in the 20s. Say what you want about old Walt, but it's better than being written by some bloody corporate hive mind."
"Jenny Sparks," she says after a moment. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
"Well, I don't have one anymore, do I?" she replies, turning to the cat. "Bit hard to, seeing as I'm dead and all. I'll tell you, though, I was really looking forward to a nice long kip in the ground. Who would've thought there'd be life after death? Especially considering I electrocuted God meself not ten minutes ago and everything." She takes another drag of the cigarette and puts her other hand in her pants pocket.
"Bloody inconvenient, s'what this all is."
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"
The absolute lack of response to anything she's just said gives Jenny pause. "You're just reading off a script, aren't you? Is there any point to these questions? Determines the right level of Hell for me or something?"
After a few seconds without response, she sighs. "All right then, I'll play along. Just one wish, and it's for people to clean up their acts and be better so people like me can take a sodding break once in a while. How's that?"
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
Jenny frowns, growing annoyed at the nonsensical questioning. "I'd tell him to piss off, though it's probably my own fault for going around granting some idiot three wishes in the first place."
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
At that question, Jenny grins. "What kind of revolution are we talking here? I've seen enough of 'em already, believe me. But I'm good enough at getting by." About a half century's worth of military training came in handy sometimes.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
"Milk, I guess," she says. "White's too sweet and dark's too bitter. But I'd rather have a nice pack of ciggies if you don't mind, I'm almost out." An eternity without something to smoke really would be hell. "As long as I'm making requests no one's listening to over here, anyway."
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
"Oh, fer Christ sake," Jenny moans. "Most of those things aren't even real or are fucking humans anyway, so it's a bit of a stupid question, isn't it?" She rubs her temple distractedly. "Right, right, Mickey sodding Mouse. Look, all that Harry Potter and comic book shit is all well and good, but ordinary humans are the only ones worth really giving a damn about. Sure, plenty of them are evil sods right enough, but someone's got to look out for them and a crazy old bitch like me might as well be the one."
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
"Glad to be of service," she replies sarcastically. "Now is someone going to tell me where the pub here is, or do I get to take care of everything myself? And no, that all right? I won't consent to any searches, bloody post Gamorra American fascism it is." She takes the cigarette out of her mouth and crosses her arms over her chest with a glare.
((Jenny Sparks is from the comic book series Stormwatch and the Authority. She's taken from the end of Authority #12, post-death. Some spoilers for the early Authority. See Jenny's profile for information on powers and such.))