Strawberry #24: Ink
Author: Sly
Rating: PG (language)
Challenge: Strawberry #24: Ink
Word Count: 999 words (heh)
A/N: The introduction of Maxim! This is what Shayna requested after she stumped me.
She was like a picture on his bed. Of course, the lazy Russian had to remind himself that she was also quite markedly Reuben’s property. Maxim knew that to use his suave Slavic charms on Imagyn would probably cause some sort of rift among the Obsoletes. And no girl was worth that trouble.
“A singer? How the hell is that going to make money?” Vix was yelling at Reuben over the phone - again, loud enough for even Maxim to hear. It was all his friend seemed to do. Complain about how stupid Reuben was. Complain about how Reuben would send them all to destruction. Complain about how Reuben never noticed how attracted she truly was.
“Vix, listen, she can sing like a fucking lark, okay? Just trust me. We’re at Maxim’s now. Settling all that identification stuff. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, Vix. God, I’m not a…ugh!” The phone clicked shut as Reuben turned to Max. “That woman…”
“She is intolerable. I know. That’s why you got a new one.” He motioned to Imagyn, still lost in the music floating directly into her ear canal from the tiny metal device. Max hadn’t seen anyone so pleased by such a simple - and cheap - present. “She’s a looker.”
“Maxim,” Reuben warned, giving him that look, “she needs identification. She can’t very well go out there and go, ‘My name? Imagyn. Last name…ummm…’” His voice rose to a falsetto as he pretended to be the girl.
“Nope. Suppose not. Well, let me see what I can do.” Dark hair was shoved from his face, the eerie navy eyes that Maxim was prized for shifted to the flickering black screen at his desk.
Blue on black. That’s how he liked to write. Black background, blue font, and a hacking system better than the Establishment themselves could make. Programs to make an assortment of personal identification papers lined up on the side, their icons all computer-doodled versions of their creator. Maxim enjoyed having cartoon images of himself grinning at him while he worked.
“You’ll be needing a set too, right Reuben?”
“Ah, yes.” The Irish man flushed, obviously remembering the last set of papers he had. “I didn’t mean to knock that guy out.”
“You were drunk, I remember. Good of a reason as any. Tell the girlie she needs to pose for pictures,” Maxim said, steadying the camera attached to the monitor.
Reuben shook Imagyn, rousing her from her musical glory. “Huh? What?”
“Maxim needs to take your picture so you can get your job.” Maxim felt the gag stick in his throat as Reuben gently removed the flat music disk from behind Imagyn’s ear. He looked so…sickeningly attracted. “Let’s go, Gyn.”
The blonde rose from her perch on his bed to slide onto the leather chair. Her eyes focused on Maxim, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He caught the words in his throat before he blurted out his shock at the black stripe. Instead, he pressed the button on his computer.
A click. A flash. And then a perfect picture of little Miss Imagyn Whateverhedecidedonforherlastname. Ink poured from his printer, copying down her image.
“Alright, alright. Reuben, I’ll fiddle around with the picture I have of you so you look somewhat different. Then you can change yourself. Give me a few moments, guys.”
Imagyn rose from her seat, nodding as she turned to look at Reuben. “Where should we go?”
“Come on outside. There’s more to explain about the city…”
“Okay,” she murmured, making her way out the door. As she left, Maxim could hear the exact replica of Vivalid’s violins.
He smiled as the ink transcribed to the paper, detailing a very new, and very interesting life for the two of them.
Reuben was the first to burst back in, uninvited, as always. Maxim glanced up from where he was working, fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Yes, Reuben? You are interrupting my work because-”
“Why am I married?!” Reuben shoved the paper proof of marriage that Maxim had made up three hours ago in his face. “Why the hell am I married?”
“I thought it would be quaint. You and your roommate all warm and fuzzy for each other. I wouldn’t complain,” Maxim pointed a finger at him, “if a girl like that would deign to marry you, you should thank that god you believe in.”
“Imagyn is brand new here and you go and marry her to me, and now she’s going to be completely freaked out and-”
Maxim cut him off, “You talk too much.” The tapping of computer keys filled the air again. “Besides,” he spoke again a few moments later, “I think Reuben and Imagyn Stafford are good names. Strong names. Your babies will be happy.”
“Babies?! Are you insane? And why do I have black hair?” Reuben’s finger indicated the dark covering over his scalp in his picture. “I like my auburn…”
“Your auburn stands out.”
“So does Imagyn’s blond-ish green! But you kept her hair the same color.”
“She looks good in it.”
“But it’s more obvious than auburn!” Reuben threw his hands in the air, along with the picture and license. “Max, you put a scar on my neck!”
“I had a good story connected to that too. It’s how you and Imagyn Stafford got married. You see, there were these thugs in the alleyway ready to pounce upon that sweet, tender flesh, and you came along, and a knife was whipped out…”
“You are completely insane,” Reuben said over him. “You make up these ludicrous stories that only a day-dreamer would believe.”
“I rather like it. Think it’s romantic. And I’m not changing it.” Reuben opened his mouth to complain again, but Maxim just held up a hand. He had had enough of the whines. “Vix offered to slice your neck for you. She is a professional at slicing things.”
“I assume you’re referring to her being a doctor,” said Reuben, wary of another answer.
“…you could say that…”
Rating: PG (language)
Challenge: Strawberry #24: Ink
Word Count: 999 words (heh)
A/N: The introduction of Maxim! This is what Shayna requested after she stumped me.
She was like a picture on his bed. Of course, the lazy Russian had to remind himself that she was also quite markedly Reuben’s property. Maxim knew that to use his suave Slavic charms on Imagyn would probably cause some sort of rift among the Obsoletes. And no girl was worth that trouble.
“A singer? How the hell is that going to make money?” Vix was yelling at Reuben over the phone - again, loud enough for even Maxim to hear. It was all his friend seemed to do. Complain about how stupid Reuben was. Complain about how Reuben would send them all to destruction. Complain about how Reuben never noticed how attracted she truly was.
“Vix, listen, she can sing like a fucking lark, okay? Just trust me. We’re at Maxim’s now. Settling all that identification stuff. Yeah. Yeah. Okay, Vix. God, I’m not a…ugh!” The phone clicked shut as Reuben turned to Max. “That woman…”
“She is intolerable. I know. That’s why you got a new one.” He motioned to Imagyn, still lost in the music floating directly into her ear canal from the tiny metal device. Max hadn’t seen anyone so pleased by such a simple - and cheap - present. “She’s a looker.”
“Maxim,” Reuben warned, giving him that look, “she needs identification. She can’t very well go out there and go, ‘My name? Imagyn. Last name…ummm…’” His voice rose to a falsetto as he pretended to be the girl.
“Nope. Suppose not. Well, let me see what I can do.” Dark hair was shoved from his face, the eerie navy eyes that Maxim was prized for shifted to the flickering black screen at his desk.
Blue on black. That’s how he liked to write. Black background, blue font, and a hacking system better than the Establishment themselves could make. Programs to make an assortment of personal identification papers lined up on the side, their icons all computer-doodled versions of their creator. Maxim enjoyed having cartoon images of himself grinning at him while he worked.
“You’ll be needing a set too, right Reuben?”
“Ah, yes.” The Irish man flushed, obviously remembering the last set of papers he had. “I didn’t mean to knock that guy out.”
“You were drunk, I remember. Good of a reason as any. Tell the girlie she needs to pose for pictures,” Maxim said, steadying the camera attached to the monitor.
Reuben shook Imagyn, rousing her from her musical glory. “Huh? What?”
“Maxim needs to take your picture so you can get your job.” Maxim felt the gag stick in his throat as Reuben gently removed the flat music disk from behind Imagyn’s ear. He looked so…sickeningly attracted. “Let’s go, Gyn.”
The blonde rose from her perch on his bed to slide onto the leather chair. Her eyes focused on Maxim, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He caught the words in his throat before he blurted out his shock at the black stripe. Instead, he pressed the button on his computer.
A click. A flash. And then a perfect picture of little Miss Imagyn Whateverhedecidedonforherlastname. Ink poured from his printer, copying down her image.
“Alright, alright. Reuben, I’ll fiddle around with the picture I have of you so you look somewhat different. Then you can change yourself. Give me a few moments, guys.”
Imagyn rose from her seat, nodding as she turned to look at Reuben. “Where should we go?”
“Come on outside. There’s more to explain about the city…”
“Okay,” she murmured, making her way out the door. As she left, Maxim could hear the exact replica of Vivalid’s violins.
He smiled as the ink transcribed to the paper, detailing a very new, and very interesting life for the two of them.
Reuben was the first to burst back in, uninvited, as always. Maxim glanced up from where he was working, fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Yes, Reuben? You are interrupting my work because-”
“Why am I married?!” Reuben shoved the paper proof of marriage that Maxim had made up three hours ago in his face. “Why the hell am I married?”
“I thought it would be quaint. You and your roommate all warm and fuzzy for each other. I wouldn’t complain,” Maxim pointed a finger at him, “if a girl like that would deign to marry you, you should thank that god you believe in.”
“Imagyn is brand new here and you go and marry her to me, and now she’s going to be completely freaked out and-”
Maxim cut him off, “You talk too much.” The tapping of computer keys filled the air again. “Besides,” he spoke again a few moments later, “I think Reuben and Imagyn Stafford are good names. Strong names. Your babies will be happy.”
“Babies?! Are you insane? And why do I have black hair?” Reuben’s finger indicated the dark covering over his scalp in his picture. “I like my auburn…”
“Your auburn stands out.”
“So does Imagyn’s blond-ish green! But you kept her hair the same color.”
“She looks good in it.”
“But it’s more obvious than auburn!” Reuben threw his hands in the air, along with the picture and license. “Max, you put a scar on my neck!”
“I had a good story connected to that too. It’s how you and Imagyn Stafford got married. You see, there were these thugs in the alleyway ready to pounce upon that sweet, tender flesh, and you came along, and a knife was whipped out…”
“You are completely insane,” Reuben said over him. “You make up these ludicrous stories that only a day-dreamer would believe.”
“I rather like it. Think it’s romantic. And I’m not changing it.” Reuben opened his mouth to complain again, but Maxim just held up a hand. He had had enough of the whines. “Vix offered to slice your neck for you. She is a professional at slicing things.”
“I assume you’re referring to her being a doctor,” said Reuben, wary of another answer.
“…you could say that…”