I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth - Amber, Graverobber, PG
Title: I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Amber, Graverobber
Rating: PG
Summary: "Amber Sweet could handle a little bit of trouble."
Warnings: Some violence. It's safer than the movie, really.
Amber stumbled out of the club, half-sick from cigarette smoke and too many martinis, and turned right instead of left. He would assume she was going home; therefore, she wouldn't go home. She would go find somewhere else to hang out until dawn, by which time he would have surely given up.
It was late, but the bars were still open, so Amber managed to lose herself quite handily in the homeward-bound crowd. She realized she was being followed fairly early on in the pursuit, and quickened her pace, hoping that the heavyset guy behind her was just thinking she was an easy target, and would pick someone else if she proved at all difficult. If not - she double-checked the spring-loaded sheath under her corset, where a Christmas present from Luigi curved against her ribs. Amber Sweet could handle a little bit of trouble.
It proved to be more than a little bit of trouble when she realized that she'd been driven into the blind alley. She killed the big one, cut the second one, and lost her weapon when it stuck in the ribs of the third. There were two more, and the leader was pretty damned mad. One of them jerked her arms back and up until her shoulders threatened to dislocate, and another one slapped her across the face once, twice, thrice. The one holding her hands threw her up against the wall, driving the breath from her, then down onto the pavement, where they took turns kicking her until she was curled up and coughing. The leader chuckled and she wondered if they'd even find her body.
"Hold her," he ordered, though that was hardly necessary. She heard the buckle, the zipper, took a breath to scream. He hit her, hard enough to make her see spots. "You make one noise and I'm killing you, you numb cunt," he snarled.
There was a moment of death will be easier, and she did scream, hardly more than a squeak, but the dumpster she was lying next to shifted, and a tall figure in a long coat somehow emerged from it. He moved faster than she thought possible, and the man bent over her staggered backwards, dropping his intestines all over her legs in a hot wash of blood. "Not in my alley," the newcomer muttered, and the others swore and took off running.
He looked down at the dying man, then over at her. "You all right?" he asked. She nodded, because she didn't trust her voice, wanting to puke and to cry and to thank this stranger and unable to do any of them. He offered her a hand, guiding her away from the tangled mess that had been a man with something approaching gentleness.
"Thank you," she managed to choke out, pushing the heavy mass of hair back away from her face. Her hand came away bloody, and she moaned.
"Don't mention it," he said. "You - fucking hell, you're Amber Sweet."
She nodded, shuddering. Even in the alleys they knew who she was.
"Guess I don't have to ask if you have someone you can call, then. Probably all of GeneCo's out looking for you."
She looked down at her wristcomm, blinking stupidly. "They probably don't even know I'm gone," she said finally, punching in the Geneco emergency code. "I was at a party with my brother." Someone would trace her position and find her, bring her home, and somehow she almost hoped it was Pavi, despite the argument that had led to her leaving in the first place. Pavi wouldn't demand an explanation, like Daddy; and he wouldn't want to go hunt down the rest of them, like Luigi. He would just take her home and put her in a hot bath and let her go to bed. She looked up at him. "You saved my life; let me thank you somehow."
He shook his head. "Not necessary."
"At least tell me your name."
"Graverobber," he offered diffidently, then turned and walked away as the armored car cruised slowly to the curb.
"Graverobber," she whispered, shivering. It was a title, more than a name, and she realized with a start that she knew him too. His face was on wanted posters all over the city. "He saved my life," she murmured, stumbling into the back seat. "Why did he do that?"
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Amber, Graverobber
Rating: PG
Summary: "Amber Sweet could handle a little bit of trouble."
Warnings: Some violence. It's safer than the movie, really.
Amber stumbled out of the club, half-sick from cigarette smoke and too many martinis, and turned right instead of left. He would assume she was going home; therefore, she wouldn't go home. She would go find somewhere else to hang out until dawn, by which time he would have surely given up.
It was late, but the bars were still open, so Amber managed to lose herself quite handily in the homeward-bound crowd. She realized she was being followed fairly early on in the pursuit, and quickened her pace, hoping that the heavyset guy behind her was just thinking she was an easy target, and would pick someone else if she proved at all difficult. If not - she double-checked the spring-loaded sheath under her corset, where a Christmas present from Luigi curved against her ribs. Amber Sweet could handle a little bit of trouble.
It proved to be more than a little bit of trouble when she realized that she'd been driven into the blind alley. She killed the big one, cut the second one, and lost her weapon when it stuck in the ribs of the third. There were two more, and the leader was pretty damned mad. One of them jerked her arms back and up until her shoulders threatened to dislocate, and another one slapped her across the face once, twice, thrice. The one holding her hands threw her up against the wall, driving the breath from her, then down onto the pavement, where they took turns kicking her until she was curled up and coughing. The leader chuckled and she wondered if they'd even find her body.
"Hold her," he ordered, though that was hardly necessary. She heard the buckle, the zipper, took a breath to scream. He hit her, hard enough to make her see spots. "You make one noise and I'm killing you, you numb cunt," he snarled.
There was a moment of death will be easier, and she did scream, hardly more than a squeak, but the dumpster she was lying next to shifted, and a tall figure in a long coat somehow emerged from it. He moved faster than she thought possible, and the man bent over her staggered backwards, dropping his intestines all over her legs in a hot wash of blood. "Not in my alley," the newcomer muttered, and the others swore and took off running.
He looked down at the dying man, then over at her. "You all right?" he asked. She nodded, because she didn't trust her voice, wanting to puke and to cry and to thank this stranger and unable to do any of them. He offered her a hand, guiding her away from the tangled mess that had been a man with something approaching gentleness.
"Thank you," she managed to choke out, pushing the heavy mass of hair back away from her face. Her hand came away bloody, and she moaned.
"Don't mention it," he said. "You - fucking hell, you're Amber Sweet."
She nodded, shuddering. Even in the alleys they knew who she was.
"Guess I don't have to ask if you have someone you can call, then. Probably all of GeneCo's out looking for you."
She looked down at her wristcomm, blinking stupidly. "They probably don't even know I'm gone," she said finally, punching in the Geneco emergency code. "I was at a party with my brother." Someone would trace her position and find her, bring her home, and somehow she almost hoped it was Pavi, despite the argument that had led to her leaving in the first place. Pavi wouldn't demand an explanation, like Daddy; and he wouldn't want to go hunt down the rest of them, like Luigi. He would just take her home and put her in a hot bath and let her go to bed. She looked up at him. "You saved my life; let me thank you somehow."
He shook his head. "Not necessary."
"At least tell me your name."
"Graverobber," he offered diffidently, then turned and walked away as the armored car cruised slowly to the curb.
"Graverobber," she whispered, shivering. It was a title, more than a name, and she realized with a start that she knew him too. His face was on wanted posters all over the city. "He saved my life," she murmured, stumbling into the back seat. "Why did he do that?"