(Untitled)

[born_in_blood]

Who: Dexter and Jack/Tyler Durden, later T'Pol. If you'd like to join, contact Kari.
Where: Jack's room.
When: Nowish.
What: Dexter's killing Jack, but not before Jack shows Dexter what Fight Club taught his fists.
Warnings: Violence, language, torture.

Comments

[psychosnowflake]

Jack had been writing in his journal intermittantly, but mainly he'd just been listening to the chaos. The flood was uncomfortable for everyone and he really wasn't feeling good. Being in a woman's body brought out all sorts of strange thoughts and feelings, on top of the weirdness of the physical change. Maybe it was his imagination, but he was feeling more emotional, and that in turn made him think of Marla

When I was a kid, I had a fake ID. The name on it was Marla Singer. I was a dumb kid.

[born_in_blood]

The hesitation of the door made Dexter more than just nervous -- it made him feel desperate. In his state, desperation lead to thoughts of panic. What if he didn't get this kill? If he had to spend another night without the satisfaction of someone on his table?

The thought was unaccepted to Dexter. It was the most abhorrent fate he could think of for himself, and his emotions got the better of him. Slowly but surely, he inched toward the door. Jack called out, causing him to hesitate for a moment before flinging a hand out to grab the door. Once he felt it was open sufficiently, he used his foot to kick the door open, and nearly took a leap inside. He'd forgotten to take the first needle out of his pocket, an error which he regretted immediately upon seeing Jack. He opted for the piano wire, then, and began to string it between his hands as he kept himself on a collision course headed straight for Jack.

Lolol.

[psychosnowflake]

Before the door was kicked open, Jack briefly glimpsed a woman he'd never seen before, which didn't really tell him much, because it was probably a man who was affected by the flood. Then she - he? - was rushing at him, wire strung between her hands, and Jack let instinct take over. He threw himself sideways, trying to dodge the oncoming attack.

Breathing hard, Jack tried to think. Who was this? Why were they attacking? What kind of experience did they have? He was distracted, thoughts going all over the place. This female body felt different, strange, distracting, probably even unused to fighting, which could end up being pretty bad. He tried to sink into a usual fighting stance, but it felt awkward and off somehow. This was not how he'd planned to spend his day.

[born_in_blood]

Dexter cursed out loud when Jack managed to dodge his attack, and reflexively moving toward him again. Dexter knew the woman in front of him was Jack, and that inside, there was a man who would fight like a wounded Tasmanian devil. He didn't want to be distracted by the fact that he was female at this particular moment. He was a dangerous man with dangerous ideas, and he needed to be put down.

Attempting to match a fighting stance much the same as Jack's, Dexter also felt the inhibitions of his female form. His jiu jutusu training wasn't as easily recalled, and the stances, the movements, weren't coming as easily. Suddenly, he stood still, hoping his confusion would abate with a moment of calm, waiting for Jack to make the first move.

[psychosnowflake]

Jack watched his opponent carefully. She looked ever-so-slightly awkward, like him, and he thought his first instinct had probably been right. This was a guy in a woman's body, probably. Jack didn't make a move, just watched her as she settled back, becoming still for a moment. He didn't like that.

"Who are you?" he asked, finally after the silence went on for a bit too long. The way his words came out in a woman's voice still weirded him out and he was momentarily distracted, before angrily continuing, "And what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Man, sorry if these have been a little incoherent. I'm really dizzy!

[born_in_blood]

Dexter stared at Jack squarely in the eyes, completely silent. He didn't know what he was looking for by staring at him, what kind of opportunity he was waiting for. When that realization hit, Dexter made his move, swinging a straight hand directly at Jack's neck.

[Permissions to do anything but knock him (lol her) out, really. You know the score, so goooo!]

Dizzy? That doesn't sound good. You okay?

[psychosnowflake]

The frustration built up as she didn't answer his questions. Jack was about to lose his cool and aim a punch at her head when she swung at him. Her fingers barely hit his neck, and he grabbed her wrist. He twisted it away from him, rage building up. Who the fuck did she think she was?

He rammed a hand blindly towards her face, hard, hoping he'd hit her nose and break it. It connected with her jaw and he grinned savagely as he felt the click of teeth slamming together. Good enough.

[Permissions for everything for you. /thumbs up]

I'm better now! :] I think it's good to let Jack beat on Dexter for a bit, right?

[born_in_blood]

When the hand connected to his jaw, he felt the creeping that could only be associated with a loss of consciousness, but pushed it away with a shake of his head. Turning swiftly to gather his bearings and swing at the woman -- well, technically... anyway -- he wound up and aimed his arm to land between Jack's shoulder and neck. Dexter knew the spot, that it could cause a loss of consciousness almost instantly with enough pressure.

The movement was sluggish, however, and predictable, so Dexter began to reach into his pocket with his free hand.

If you want! Stick him with that needle whenever, though.

[psychosnowflake]

Jack saw the blow coming and dodged it cleanly. Spinning around, he moved quickly, wanting get in a good punch to her stomach. From experience, he knew that gut punches hurt like hell and could incapacitate a person. Right now, he wanted her to hurt. As she moved, his aim went wild. His fist connected hard with her ribs and he cursed.

He tried to move back away from her, but stumbled over something and nearly fell. He managed to stop the fall, but remained within her range.

[born_in_blood]

The blow to his ribs in this feminine body had an incredible impact on Dexter, causing him to stumble forward when it connected. When Jack lost his balance momentarily, Dexter began to utilize breathing exercises to maintain consciousness and get a grip on his surroundings. His hand clasped onto the plastic shaft of the needle, thankful that it hadn't been broken in the scuffle. Pulling it out quickly, he removed the plastic covering over the needle with his teeth and closed in on Jack who seemed to be recovering quickly from his fall.

Any spot would do, really, because the sedative was so powerful. Opting for Jack's wide-open torso, Dexter swung one hand toward Jack's head as a distraction, closing the distance between them, the other hand moving to stab the needle squarely in Jack's stomach.

[psychosnowflake]

Concentrating entirely on deflecting her hand away from his head, Jack fell for the distraction. Hands both up to catch her arm, he didn't see the needle coming, until he felt it puncture his skin. It stabbed through his shirt and the drug was injected straight into the soft flesh of his stomach. He gasped, struggling to breathe. His vision blurred. He just had time to realise exactly how bad this was before his knees buckled under him.

Flailing weakly, trying desperately to push the girl away from him, Jack went down. He was unconcious before he hit the ground.

[born_in_blood]

Wiping the blood from his now-bleeding mouth, he felt something loose rolling around inside, next to his tongue. A tooth, he thought, and then laughed a little to himself before spitting the thing out on Jack's desk. Even as a woman, Jack had managed to cause some serious physical damage to Dexter, and he was impressed. His ribs felt bruised, too, so he kept his torso straight, just in case it was broken. Any shift might distract him from the work at needed to be done

[psychosnowflake]

When Jack opened his eyes, he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. All he could make out were blurry shapes. He was... on a bed? How had he got here? He tried to sit up, to get to his journal, but he couldn't move. There were straps - no, tape? - holding him down. The last thing he remembered was a knock on the door, a girl had been there. There were vague memories, shadowy - a fight? He couldn't breathe, his chest was aching. His vision was spotty, black shapes blurring. He couldn't turn his head.

Mild confusion snapped into panic, and Jack began to thrash wildly against the restraints, jerking himself back and forth trying desperately to get free. This was worse than the space monkeys holding him down, worse than being tied to the chair with Tyler holding a gun to his head. He had no idea what was going on. Oh god, he wanted to get up. He couldn't breathe. Fuck. He wanted to get out.

[born_in_blood]

Dexter was staring down at Jack from his position at the side of the bed, waiting quietly for him to regain consciousness, lucidity. As Jack began to struggle, Dexter rolled his eyes inwardly. Always the struggle, always the confusion. He wanted to get started as quickly as possible before T'Pol was alerted.

He moved to Jack's desk where he had set out a small hacksaw and a serrated knife, both items Hayley had picked up for him in New York City. Running his fingers along the metal blade of the serrated knife, he spoke flatly. "I'm afraid we're going to have to put the wounded dog down, Jack." Picking up the knife by the handle, he moved over to the bed, kneeling down next to where Jack's head was. He rested his chin against the bed frame, cocking his head to one side. "It's time to pay for those lives lost."

[psychosnowflake]

As soon as the voice filtered into his head through the panic, Jack froze. As much as it could, still hazy from the drugs, his mind was racing. Questions floated through his mind: who was this really, what did she want, what did she plan on doing to him and most urgently, what the hell she was talking about?

"Lives lost? What are you-" His words were cut off by a spate of coughs. His breathing was shallow, his chest was in some serious pain. The panic forced him to try and breathe more deeply than normal, but his lungs couldn't take in even a normal amount of air. It felt like dying slowly. He tried to calm down, tried to think rationally. Coughing painfully, chest spasming, he finally managed to choke out: "I don't know what you mean!"

[born_in_blood]

A little perplexed by Jack's condition, Dexter's mind began to work in overdrive, observing his symptoms with some measure of concern. It wasn't for Jack's life, really, so much as it was for interrupting his ritual. Another fuck up would likely speed up his need for another kill, and he needed this one to tide him over for a very long time.

He stood up, then, and pulled two glass slides out of his pocket, still staring Jack in the eyes. He held the serrated blade up to Jack's cheek ignoring his inane protests, questions, and left a quick cut. He didn't have his dropper to glean his precious prize from this man, woman, whatever -- so he opted to let the blade sit on the cut for a moment, allowing a small amount of blood to pool on it. When he was satisfied, he picked the blade up and carefully -- very, very carefully -- let a drop fall on one of the slides. Slowly, he placed the other slide on top of the blood sample with finality and let out a sigh of relief as he looked down at the slide.

It was coming, soon. His Dark Passenger