For Deaddamien: Mike & Bob drabble x 2,5, pre-Twin Peaks
dead_damien requested a drabble with Bob and Mike in it, from the pre-Twin Peaks timeline, so here it is. Or make it two and a half drabbles, because it's 250 words long.
This turned out quite... sinister, is the word I'd use. Dark little ficbunny.
Through the Darkness of Futures Past
She is dreaming again.
She is not in the room, but she can see them.
The Killer is seated next to the Two-Armed Man, his hand steady on the needle that is marking the other man’s skin. The harsh fluorescent light blinks restlessly, and the Two-Armed Man turns his face to the Killer.
Bob? Are you sure there’s enough light here?
I need no electricity to do this, the Killer replies. I can do this through the darkness of futures past. Like killing, the skill’s in my fingertips and my blood, not in my eyes.
She can see the tattoo clearly now. As the Killer completes the dark, red-edged mark on the other man’s arm, an invisible, suffocating weight restrains her. She writhes to free herself from it, but no sound comes out, no air flows into her lungs, and she begins to panic.
The Killer jerks his head violently, listening, his long, grey-stained hair lashing the air.
Did you hear that, Mike? My new host is ready and waiting.
The Two-Armed Man grins.
You’ll catch another one in your death bag, Bob.
Laura Palmer wakes up, as her father comes in through the door and turns on the light. He takes his sobbing seven-year-old daughter in his arms.
“Dad, I’m scared. They’re coming for me.”
“It’s all right. It was just a bad dream. Nothing more,” Leland whispers, caressing Laura’s soft hair gently. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Somewhere, the Killer and the Two-Armed Man are smiling.
This turned out quite... sinister, is the word I'd use. Dark little ficbunny.
Through the Darkness of Futures Past
She is dreaming again.
She is not in the room, but she can see them.
The Killer is seated next to the Two-Armed Man, his hand steady on the needle that is marking the other man’s skin. The harsh fluorescent light blinks restlessly, and the Two-Armed Man turns his face to the Killer.
Bob? Are you sure there’s enough light here?
I need no electricity to do this, the Killer replies. I can do this through the darkness of futures past. Like killing, the skill’s in my fingertips and my blood, not in my eyes.
She can see the tattoo clearly now. As the Killer completes the dark, red-edged mark on the other man’s arm, an invisible, suffocating weight restrains her. She writhes to free herself from it, but no sound comes out, no air flows into her lungs, and she begins to panic.
The Killer jerks his head violently, listening, his long, grey-stained hair lashing the air.
Did you hear that, Mike? My new host is ready and waiting.
The Two-Armed Man grins.
You’ll catch another one in your death bag, Bob.
Laura Palmer wakes up, as her father comes in through the door and turns on the light. He takes his sobbing seven-year-old daughter in his arms.
“Dad, I’m scared. They’re coming for me.”
“It’s all right. It was just a bad dream. Nothing more,” Leland whispers, caressing Laura’s soft hair gently. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Somewhere, the Killer and the Two-Armed Man are smiling.