new thing?
Random scene with Genevieve and Stephen. From fairly early on in the book probably.
~*~
She knocked on the door for a good ten minutes before giving up and going in anyway. She knew what he was doing; it was 10:30 - that meant he was in training mode. She walked through the living room and the kitchen to the training room he had set up in the back. It was technically the second bedroom in these government houses, but for those who no longer had children to stick in them, they were the spare room - used as the owner saw fit.
Genevieve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, not wanting to interrupt him. He was sweating heavily and had his shirt off, and was beating his punching bag to hell and back. He did that on days when he remembered the war. His favorite song, "Broken Hands", was blasting loudly, so he wouldn't have been able to hear her speak anyway.
It wasn’t more than a minute before he glanced up for a moment, nodded his usual hello, and continued his assault on the black leather. His punches and kicks were powerfully strong, to the point where he'd had to hang the bag from false rafters, held up by two supports going down to the floor on either side and held in place by his collection of weights. The beam that actually supported the bag had to he replaced every 6 months or so. But it since he'd been at war, this one was pretty old now.
He paused for a moment, staring at the limp victim in front of him as it swung idly back and forth. Then he gathered all his hate together and slammed his fist forward, snapping the withered support beam in two, and sending the bag toppling to the ground.
His eyes fell closed and the song ended; he reached over and stopped the CD, and walked out passed her, into the kitchen. She followed, watching him lean over the sink. His hands were bloodied and raw.
"You've been at it pretty hard today." It was a statement, not a question, as she spoke. He just nodded, wiping his brow. The only thing it accomplished was mixing the sweat on his face with the blood on his hands.
"Let me," she offered, taking a cloth from the edge of the sink, rinsing it off and then carefully patting down his bruised knuckles. She knew better than to lecture him on not pushing himself too hard like this, he never heard her words anyway.
She carefully took his hand in hers and continued wiping away the drying blood. "So who was it?" she asked quietly.
"Wolf."
She was about to go get bandages for his hands, but decided not to. If today was a Wolf day, there wasn't any point in it. He would be back to that punching bag as soon as he put up a new support beam.
Victor Wolf, leader of ESIT (Early Start Intelligence Team - a highly illegal, top secret group that picks teens out of high-school, bribes them with cash, and sends them to be spies in foreign countries under the guise of exchange students in an honors program studying politics) within the German government, was both the one who recruited him and the one who ordered his (and his family's) execution.
He quickly walked back into the training room and started to put up a new support beam, taking one from the pile of lumber he kept in the corner of the room.
"Stephen…"
"What. What else would you have me do?"
"…nothing… look, I'm trying to get us all together for dinner tonight at my place. We'd all really like it if you'd come."
"Well we can't all be together anymore now, can we. Joe, Craig, John, Xander, Dan; we can't all be together because of this goddamned motherfucking war. Those government pigs took them away from us."
"They all signed up of their own free will," she said quietly. "You all did."
"And they all died of their own free will too? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" His voice was cold with hate, but she knew it wasn’t at her. Their relationship was strange, in that he vented at her, and she took whatever he could throw and just let it roll right off her. In return, he would listen to her and not judge, and he was there as a shoulder for her to cry on when she needed it. They were both silently grateful for each other, and didn't let emotions directed at others affect them.
"No. They died for what they believe in. They died for each other, and they died for us."
"Yeah, well I guess we're supposed to blame it on the damn 'colonies' for getting uppity again about their freedom. First India, now us."
"Yes, well, King Arthur James The Second does seem a tad bit upset over the whole thing, doesn't he?" I asked with a slight grin.
He quickly dropped what he was doing and slammed me against the wall by my shoulders. "Don't you dare call him that, it's just giving him what he wants. His name is Prime Minister Cole." He stared angrily into her eyes for a moment, then the rage in his own quieted and he let her go with a mumbled, "sorry."
"It's alright." She put her hand on his shoulder as she turned to walk out. "Dinner's at 7. There's beer for afterward but feel free to bring more. You can crash there if you need to."
"Alright," he said, his voice quiet. "Thank you, Vieve." He put his own hand over hers on his shoulder for a moment, then she nodded and pulled away, letting herself out of the house.
He went on to break his second support beam of the day, and to destroy Viktor Wolf, again.
~*~
Questions, comments, reviews, critiques all welcome.
~*~
She knocked on the door for a good ten minutes before giving up and going in anyway. She knew what he was doing; it was 10:30 - that meant he was in training mode. She walked through the living room and the kitchen to the training room he had set up in the back. It was technically the second bedroom in these government houses, but for those who no longer had children to stick in them, they were the spare room - used as the owner saw fit.
Genevieve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, not wanting to interrupt him. He was sweating heavily and had his shirt off, and was beating his punching bag to hell and back. He did that on days when he remembered the war. His favorite song, "Broken Hands", was blasting loudly, so he wouldn't have been able to hear her speak anyway.
It wasn’t more than a minute before he glanced up for a moment, nodded his usual hello, and continued his assault on the black leather. His punches and kicks were powerfully strong, to the point where he'd had to hang the bag from false rafters, held up by two supports going down to the floor on either side and held in place by his collection of weights. The beam that actually supported the bag had to he replaced every 6 months or so. But it since he'd been at war, this one was pretty old now.
He paused for a moment, staring at the limp victim in front of him as it swung idly back and forth. Then he gathered all his hate together and slammed his fist forward, snapping the withered support beam in two, and sending the bag toppling to the ground.
His eyes fell closed and the song ended; he reached over and stopped the CD, and walked out passed her, into the kitchen. She followed, watching him lean over the sink. His hands were bloodied and raw.
"You've been at it pretty hard today." It was a statement, not a question, as she spoke. He just nodded, wiping his brow. The only thing it accomplished was mixing the sweat on his face with the blood on his hands.
"Let me," she offered, taking a cloth from the edge of the sink, rinsing it off and then carefully patting down his bruised knuckles. She knew better than to lecture him on not pushing himself too hard like this, he never heard her words anyway.
She carefully took his hand in hers and continued wiping away the drying blood. "So who was it?" she asked quietly.
"Wolf."
She was about to go get bandages for his hands, but decided not to. If today was a Wolf day, there wasn't any point in it. He would be back to that punching bag as soon as he put up a new support beam.
Victor Wolf, leader of ESIT (Early Start Intelligence Team - a highly illegal, top secret group that picks teens out of high-school, bribes them with cash, and sends them to be spies in foreign countries under the guise of exchange students in an honors program studying politics) within the German government, was both the one who recruited him and the one who ordered his (and his family's) execution.
He quickly walked back into the training room and started to put up a new support beam, taking one from the pile of lumber he kept in the corner of the room.
"Stephen…"
"What. What else would you have me do?"
"…nothing… look, I'm trying to get us all together for dinner tonight at my place. We'd all really like it if you'd come."
"Well we can't all be together anymore now, can we. Joe, Craig, John, Xander, Dan; we can't all be together because of this goddamned motherfucking war. Those government pigs took them away from us."
"They all signed up of their own free will," she said quietly. "You all did."
"And they all died of their own free will too? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" His voice was cold with hate, but she knew it wasn’t at her. Their relationship was strange, in that he vented at her, and she took whatever he could throw and just let it roll right off her. In return, he would listen to her and not judge, and he was there as a shoulder for her to cry on when she needed it. They were both silently grateful for each other, and didn't let emotions directed at others affect them.
"No. They died for what they believe in. They died for each other, and they died for us."
"Yeah, well I guess we're supposed to blame it on the damn 'colonies' for getting uppity again about their freedom. First India, now us."
"Yes, well, King Arthur James The Second does seem a tad bit upset over the whole thing, doesn't he?" I asked with a slight grin.
He quickly dropped what he was doing and slammed me against the wall by my shoulders. "Don't you dare call him that, it's just giving him what he wants. His name is Prime Minister Cole." He stared angrily into her eyes for a moment, then the rage in his own quieted and he let her go with a mumbled, "sorry."
"It's alright." She put her hand on his shoulder as she turned to walk out. "Dinner's at 7. There's beer for afterward but feel free to bring more. You can crash there if you need to."
"Alright," he said, his voice quiet. "Thank you, Vieve." He put his own hand over hers on his shoulder for a moment, then she nodded and pulled away, letting herself out of the house.
He went on to break his second support beam of the day, and to destroy Viktor Wolf, again.
~*~
Questions, comments, reviews, critiques all welcome.