Day 1 | Forward to Death
title: Forward to Death
author: avamclean
word count: 666 (completely by accident)
rating: FR13
crossover: BtVS, Stranger Things
disclaimer: BtVS and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. Stranger Things and all related characters are copyright of Matt & Ross Duffer and Netflix. I also don’t own the lyrics to the Dead Kennedys song “Forward to Death”
spoilers: None at this point, but when (or if) I add more this series will take place in season 3 of Stranger Things.
Synopsis: Monsters were the business of women.
+
Her nose twitched; the scent of ozone so heavy in the air it left a metallic aftertaste. Brown eyes narrowed on the world beyond the windows of the bus at it slowed to a crawl. The people she’d been sharing the Greyhound with had vanished. Replaced by soot and a humidity that settled across her skin.
The fine hairs along the back of her neck lifted, pinpricks of skin rising to attention as movement in the world beyond the glass drew her attention. Red lightning danced upwards through the clouds before striking downward to illuminate a many limbed opponent. Etsuko Natalie Ito’s mouth thinned at its sheer size and her hands itched for her naginata. Which, at the moment, resided in the bus’ storage compartment beneath her.
Not that the weapon, though nearly as long as she was tall, would do much against that thing-whatever it was-the weight of it would’ve been a comfort. The creature towered over the road and Etsuko could see the sign telling her what city the beast resided in. She’d seen it many times before. Its oval head lifted, thrown back against the sky and it freed a shriek that rattled her bones and broke the dreamscape.
Etsuko exhaled and opened her eyes. Once again surround by people and the gentle rocking of the Greyhound as it ate the distance between Illinois and Indiana. There’d been a time in her life when a day’s ride on a bus, or any vehicle for that matter, would’ve left her queasy.
It’d been years since something as mundane as a car ride made her ill. She’d even outlasted Hajime on the fair the last time her Watcher had allowed her to visit with her family. Her brother had spent hours pushing her from one ride to the next in an attempt to embarrass her as he’d done so many times before. He’d been met with disappointment and her delight. Perhaps there were some perks to being called a Slayer.
For all of Etsuko’s sixteen years she’d lived in two worlds; the world of her past in Japan and the world of her present in America. Her family called her Etsuko and her friends, the few she’d had before her calling, had called her Natalie. Her Watcher called her Natalie, and it grated, but adding a third world filled with the monsters of her sobo’s stories had not been the hardship she’d anticipated.
She was not the first in her family’s history to be called. It was their heritage. A legacy of the women in her family being told stories of monsters and death as soon they began their first steps. The naginata, and several more of her weapons, had been a gift from her grandmother and she cherished them. Cherished their strength and her sobo’s wisdom.
She’d sought out her grandmother after her Watcher had once again denied her request to follow her intuition and dreams to Indiana. A steady hand, soft with age and weathered by too much time spent in her rooftop garden, wrapped around Etsuko’s before she’d reminder her that monsters were the business of women.
Then she’d been provided her with food and money and the will to break the tradition of Slayer devote to Watcher. Instead she forged her own path. Just her sobo would’ve done. Etsuko’s gaze was drawn to the window as she passed the sign from her dreams. But in the present it was a nondescript brown, same as any sign found on the interstate, and welcoming her to Hawkins.
She pulled out the Walkman she’d borrowed from Hajime after visiting their grandmother. The headphones were a bit big, but she adjusted them as best she could before her brother’s taste in music filled her head and helped drown out the fear of the unknown. The fear that she was wrong. The fear that she would die.
“I don’t need your way of life
I can’t stand your attitudes
I can do without your strife
I don’t need this fucking world
I don’t need this fucking world”
Though if she died, she hoped to come back as fish.
Such freedom to be a fish.
+
The end.
author: avamclean
word count: 666 (completely by accident)
rating: FR13
crossover: BtVS, Stranger Things
disclaimer: BtVS and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon and ME. Stranger Things and all related characters are copyright of Matt & Ross Duffer and Netflix. I also don’t own the lyrics to the Dead Kennedys song “Forward to Death”
spoilers: None at this point, but when (or if) I add more this series will take place in season 3 of Stranger Things.
Synopsis: Monsters were the business of women.
+
Her nose twitched; the scent of ozone so heavy in the air it left a metallic aftertaste. Brown eyes narrowed on the world beyond the windows of the bus at it slowed to a crawl. The people she’d been sharing the Greyhound with had vanished. Replaced by soot and a humidity that settled across her skin.
The fine hairs along the back of her neck lifted, pinpricks of skin rising to attention as movement in the world beyond the glass drew her attention. Red lightning danced upwards through the clouds before striking downward to illuminate a many limbed opponent. Etsuko Natalie Ito’s mouth thinned at its sheer size and her hands itched for her naginata. Which, at the moment, resided in the bus’ storage compartment beneath her.
Not that the weapon, though nearly as long as she was tall, would do much against that thing-whatever it was-the weight of it would’ve been a comfort. The creature towered over the road and Etsuko could see the sign telling her what city the beast resided in. She’d seen it many times before. Its oval head lifted, thrown back against the sky and it freed a shriek that rattled her bones and broke the dreamscape.
Etsuko exhaled and opened her eyes. Once again surround by people and the gentle rocking of the Greyhound as it ate the distance between Illinois and Indiana. There’d been a time in her life when a day’s ride on a bus, or any vehicle for that matter, would’ve left her queasy.
It’d been years since something as mundane as a car ride made her ill. She’d even outlasted Hajime on the fair the last time her Watcher had allowed her to visit with her family. Her brother had spent hours pushing her from one ride to the next in an attempt to embarrass her as he’d done so many times before. He’d been met with disappointment and her delight. Perhaps there were some perks to being called a Slayer.
For all of Etsuko’s sixteen years she’d lived in two worlds; the world of her past in Japan and the world of her present in America. Her family called her Etsuko and her friends, the few she’d had before her calling, had called her Natalie. Her Watcher called her Natalie, and it grated, but adding a third world filled with the monsters of her sobo’s stories had not been the hardship she’d anticipated.
She was not the first in her family’s history to be called. It was their heritage. A legacy of the women in her family being told stories of monsters and death as soon they began their first steps. The naginata, and several more of her weapons, had been a gift from her grandmother and she cherished them. Cherished their strength and her sobo’s wisdom.
She’d sought out her grandmother after her Watcher had once again denied her request to follow her intuition and dreams to Indiana. A steady hand, soft with age and weathered by too much time spent in her rooftop garden, wrapped around Etsuko’s before she’d reminder her that monsters were the business of women.
Then she’d been provided her with food and money and the will to break the tradition of Slayer devote to Watcher. Instead she forged her own path. Just her sobo would’ve done. Etsuko’s gaze was drawn to the window as she passed the sign from her dreams. But in the present it was a nondescript brown, same as any sign found on the interstate, and welcoming her to Hawkins.
She pulled out the Walkman she’d borrowed from Hajime after visiting their grandmother. The headphones were a bit big, but she adjusted them as best she could before her brother’s taste in music filled her head and helped drown out the fear of the unknown. The fear that she was wrong. The fear that she would die.
“I don’t need your way of life
I can’t stand your attitudes
I can do without your strife
I don’t need this fucking world
I don’t need this fucking world”
Though if she died, she hoped to come back as fish.
Such freedom to be a fish.
+
The end.