Change It Up (Break The Glass)
Break everything in it. House of Blue Leaves. Blood in the snow.
I've got a plan in mind for you
I'm waiting 'til the time is right
Silly little Caucasian girl likes to play with samurai swords.
It really was a Hattori Hanzo sword. Ankles angels lives leaves wings pinions broken.
Watching you from far away
You look so sweet and clueless
Hit the floor. Brains first.
Sumimasen deshita.
Please excuse me while I bleed on your shirt.
And *Jeff, you retard, stop emailing me, I know it's you.
ONE: Tonight The Stars Revolt
Mileena knew that something was wrong. Her first clue came in the form of a wet towel. Said towel dangled haphazardly from the rack just above the resort bath-tub.
Her second clue arrived in the shape of the woman in the bath-tub.
What happened next is a matter of some debate amongst those who have heard the tale before, but the experts agree it involved much screaming, hair-pulling, and use of curses-magical and otherwise. In the end, the witch escaped through some sort of trick involving teleportation powder.
She did not take her towel.
Han adamantly maintained that it was not his fault; he was under a spell at the time. That was a likely enough story, given that his new friend was a sorceress. It didn’t change the new silences between them, or the fact that the sex was lousy from then on, and since the relationship was entirely based in sex, this was the end of the road for both of them.
Aside from this incident, he was a gentleman. She would look back at that and think it odd. Saving the galaxy seemed to have taken something vital out of him. It was that or his diplomat wife, what was her name, Organic-something, three or four hyphens with the Solo tacked on as an afterthought.
Han talked about his wife a lot. That was the main downside of the relationship. Mileena wondered if she knew her husband screwed around with mutants and witches, or whether she even cared. Apparently, Han’s wife was very close to her twin brother.
This did not disturb Mileena; she had a twin sister who was really neither her twin nor her sister, and periodically they were quite close indeed.
He dropped her off at the same place he had picked her up: the Powder Train. (On its more futuristic nights it was sometimes called the Nexus, but that evening they first met it had been far more rustic.) This particular bar was not really a bar at all, but a crease in the walls of reality where all universes touched.
When Han Solo kissed her goodbye, she understood exactly what his queen wife waited for at the end of the day. The pirate general kissed goodbye as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did. She scraped the inside of his lower lip, pressing down just until he bled, and took a bit of him with her.
He drew back slowly and looked at her for a long moment. He stared straight through her. She wasn’t sure what he saw, but something like sorrow crossed his face. Her eyes stung suddenly.
“May the Force be with you,” he said, voice rough in just one spot. Then he was gone, melting into the crowd, headed for respectability and home, somewhere out among the stars.
TWO: A Charming Spell
Mileena did not sit at the bar. She took a rear corner table. No one could sneak up on her, but she could see everything that happened. Tonight the place was very classy, all black false-marble fronts with green accent lamps, and its name was Causality.
This time the proprietor was French and rather rude, in a sneering effete way that reminded Mileena of the Edenian aristocracy. His woman sat stone-faced beside him, looking somehow delicate and whorish at the same time in her translucent white vinyl dress. They were not a happy couple.
Presently, Mileena saw why. The Frenchman ordered particular slices of chocolate cake for particular women. The girls were always blonde, blue-eyed, sweet and entirely too curvy for their own good. When they tasted the cake, they flushed crimson and rushed to excuse themselves from the tables.
She hadn’t been cloned yesterday and she knew perfectly well what was in that cake. These were highly accelerated-they were almost those vile Earth Realm things that got slipped into pretty girls’ drinks-but their purpose was obvious.
Just then, the Frenchman stood up with a superior, snide sort of grin and also excused himself.
Mileena half-heartedly mumbled something about castration and snagged a drink at random from one of the waiters’ trays. She took a sip without looking at it and immediately wished she hadn’t. Champagne was disgusting and this brand was very, very bitter.
The little slip of a redhead bouncing in from the side entrance was not disgusting. She was as not disgusting as it was possible to be. She wasn’t perfect-she had heavy ankles and skimpy cleavage, and she was prettiest from the left profile view. But she was vibrant and thanked the bartender with a perfect smile. Her drink was bright blue and had a little paper umbrella in it. She paced away from the bar in clear acrylic heels. Her toenails were even, nicely trimmed, and painted a pastel version of the blue in her drink.
Mileena paid a little more attention to her champagne. Not that it tasted any better the second time. In the end she finished it in a rush. It felt surprisingly warm for such a sissy drink. The redhead was laughing at something said to her by a bearded man in a black and red jumpsuit with a bronze triangle pin on his chest. He looked almost military, though from what army on what world she couldn’t say. He had blue eyes and his hair was less red than the girl’s.
Mileena hated girls, especially pretty ones. She was supposed to, at any rate. But she was supposed to be a lot of things. She was supposed to be in love with Baraka, and she had been, once. She couldn’t have said how that fell apart, unless it was because of her sister.
She swallowed tears-the damn champagne scoured her throat and was making her eyes water-and did not think about killing the army man with the beard for touching her redhead’s arm.
Her redhead. That felt right, possessive and right. Love was a question of ownership. Love was a function of power. Sometimes it was an expression of simple lust. This was all three, a hot, faintly sour current building steadily just behind and below her bellybutton. This must be true love.
Screw Han and his little sorceress pet.
Better yet, screw the redhead. Yes. That sounded like an excellent idea.
Mileena tried for another sip and discovered her glass was empty. She snagged the sleeve of the waiter as he glided past again. He glared at her and looked ready to launch into an affronted speech before catching sight of her massive, razor-sharp teeth.
He smiled wanly, gulped once, and let her pick up another drink.
“Compliments of Madame,” he said, with a nod of his head toward the central table.
“Really,” said Mileena dryly. The unhappy socialite in her see-through evening wear recommended these things? “And what’s it called, please, Sir.”
The waiter’s mouth did something that could have been a twitch.
“Consolation.”
“Interesting,” she said, and downed another one.
I may be pretending irony by having the plot be nothing but pairings, but really it's just because that's all I'm about. Shallow and low. ^_^
I've got a plan in mind for you
I'm waiting 'til the time is right
Silly little Caucasian girl likes to play with samurai swords.
It really was a Hattori Hanzo sword. Ankles angels lives leaves wings pinions broken.
Watching you from far away
You look so sweet and clueless
Hit the floor. Brains first.
Sumimasen deshita.
Please excuse me while I bleed on your shirt.
And *Jeff, you retard, stop emailing me, I know it's you.
ONE: Tonight The Stars Revolt
Mileena knew that something was wrong. Her first clue came in the form of a wet towel. Said towel dangled haphazardly from the rack just above the resort bath-tub.
Her second clue arrived in the shape of the woman in the bath-tub.
What happened next is a matter of some debate amongst those who have heard the tale before, but the experts agree it involved much screaming, hair-pulling, and use of curses-magical and otherwise. In the end, the witch escaped through some sort of trick involving teleportation powder.
She did not take her towel.
Han adamantly maintained that it was not his fault; he was under a spell at the time. That was a likely enough story, given that his new friend was a sorceress. It didn’t change the new silences between them, or the fact that the sex was lousy from then on, and since the relationship was entirely based in sex, this was the end of the road for both of them.
Aside from this incident, he was a gentleman. She would look back at that and think it odd. Saving the galaxy seemed to have taken something vital out of him. It was that or his diplomat wife, what was her name, Organic-something, three or four hyphens with the Solo tacked on as an afterthought.
Han talked about his wife a lot. That was the main downside of the relationship. Mileena wondered if she knew her husband screwed around with mutants and witches, or whether she even cared. Apparently, Han’s wife was very close to her twin brother.
This did not disturb Mileena; she had a twin sister who was really neither her twin nor her sister, and periodically they were quite close indeed.
He dropped her off at the same place he had picked her up: the Powder Train. (On its more futuristic nights it was sometimes called the Nexus, but that evening they first met it had been far more rustic.) This particular bar was not really a bar at all, but a crease in the walls of reality where all universes touched.
When Han Solo kissed her goodbye, she understood exactly what his queen wife waited for at the end of the day. The pirate general kissed goodbye as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did. She scraped the inside of his lower lip, pressing down just until he bled, and took a bit of him with her.
He drew back slowly and looked at her for a long moment. He stared straight through her. She wasn’t sure what he saw, but something like sorrow crossed his face. Her eyes stung suddenly.
“May the Force be with you,” he said, voice rough in just one spot. Then he was gone, melting into the crowd, headed for respectability and home, somewhere out among the stars.
TWO: A Charming Spell
Mileena did not sit at the bar. She took a rear corner table. No one could sneak up on her, but she could see everything that happened. Tonight the place was very classy, all black false-marble fronts with green accent lamps, and its name was Causality.
This time the proprietor was French and rather rude, in a sneering effete way that reminded Mileena of the Edenian aristocracy. His woman sat stone-faced beside him, looking somehow delicate and whorish at the same time in her translucent white vinyl dress. They were not a happy couple.
Presently, Mileena saw why. The Frenchman ordered particular slices of chocolate cake for particular women. The girls were always blonde, blue-eyed, sweet and entirely too curvy for their own good. When they tasted the cake, they flushed crimson and rushed to excuse themselves from the tables.
She hadn’t been cloned yesterday and she knew perfectly well what was in that cake. These were highly accelerated-they were almost those vile Earth Realm things that got slipped into pretty girls’ drinks-but their purpose was obvious.
Just then, the Frenchman stood up with a superior, snide sort of grin and also excused himself.
Mileena half-heartedly mumbled something about castration and snagged a drink at random from one of the waiters’ trays. She took a sip without looking at it and immediately wished she hadn’t. Champagne was disgusting and this brand was very, very bitter.
The little slip of a redhead bouncing in from the side entrance was not disgusting. She was as not disgusting as it was possible to be. She wasn’t perfect-she had heavy ankles and skimpy cleavage, and she was prettiest from the left profile view. But she was vibrant and thanked the bartender with a perfect smile. Her drink was bright blue and had a little paper umbrella in it. She paced away from the bar in clear acrylic heels. Her toenails were even, nicely trimmed, and painted a pastel version of the blue in her drink.
Mileena paid a little more attention to her champagne. Not that it tasted any better the second time. In the end she finished it in a rush. It felt surprisingly warm for such a sissy drink. The redhead was laughing at something said to her by a bearded man in a black and red jumpsuit with a bronze triangle pin on his chest. He looked almost military, though from what army on what world she couldn’t say. He had blue eyes and his hair was less red than the girl’s.
Mileena hated girls, especially pretty ones. She was supposed to, at any rate. But she was supposed to be a lot of things. She was supposed to be in love with Baraka, and she had been, once. She couldn’t have said how that fell apart, unless it was because of her sister.
She swallowed tears-the damn champagne scoured her throat and was making her eyes water-and did not think about killing the army man with the beard for touching her redhead’s arm.
Her redhead. That felt right, possessive and right. Love was a question of ownership. Love was a function of power. Sometimes it was an expression of simple lust. This was all three, a hot, faintly sour current building steadily just behind and below her bellybutton. This must be true love.
Screw Han and his little sorceress pet.
Better yet, screw the redhead. Yes. That sounded like an excellent idea.
Mileena tried for another sip and discovered her glass was empty. She snagged the sleeve of the waiter as he glided past again. He glared at her and looked ready to launch into an affronted speech before catching sight of her massive, razor-sharp teeth.
He smiled wanly, gulped once, and let her pick up another drink.
“Compliments of Madame,” he said, with a nod of his head toward the central table.
“Really,” said Mileena dryly. The unhappy socialite in her see-through evening wear recommended these things? “And what’s it called, please, Sir.”
The waiter’s mouth did something that could have been a twitch.
“Consolation.”
“Interesting,” she said, and downed another one.
I may be pretending irony by having the plot be nothing but pairings, but really it's just because that's all I'm about. Shallow and low. ^_^