022 Drunk - Hana Gitelman - Heroes
Title: The End of the World
Prompt Number/Prompt: 022. Drunk
Character/Fandom: Hana "Wireless" Gitelman, Heroes
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Graphic novel spoilers up to and including The Death of Hana Gitelman: Part 2. Mature themes.
Summary: Dying is like dancing.
There wasn't a name for the sensation, and it didn't need one; it was something soldiers had probably done since the dawn of time. They went out, when there was no guarantee that they ever would again, and had one last dance, one last drink, one last screw. They ate, drank, and were merry, for tomorrow they might die.
Hana had done that with just as much grim determination as she had devoted to what came next. And now...
Whatever that damn security system had done to her had hurt, but on its heels came the same dizzy feeling as that night at RGS, dulling the pain and confusing the clarity that came to all those probably about to die. But there were some things she was certain of. The satellite was well and truly disrupted. She knew because it was falling right alongside her through the thinnest of thin air. It would only get thicker. And hotter.
It felt like that night in the club, tipsy and with all cares cast aside, head pounding not with music or drink but with the ravages of a virus, warm not because of hundreds of sweating bodies but because of aerodynamic heating, caressed not by a reasonably good-looking man whose name she hadn't bothered to remember but by the friction that would vaporize her, and she was just too numb for it to hurt.
And she was certain that the satellite was the tracker, and dangerous. And it was worth it to have brought it down.
Prompt Number/Prompt: 022. Drunk
Character/Fandom: Hana "Wireless" Gitelman, Heroes
Word Count: 250
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Graphic novel spoilers up to and including The Death of Hana Gitelman: Part 2. Mature themes.
Summary: Dying is like dancing.
There wasn't a name for the sensation, and it didn't need one; it was something soldiers had probably done since the dawn of time. They went out, when there was no guarantee that they ever would again, and had one last dance, one last drink, one last screw. They ate, drank, and were merry, for tomorrow they might die.
Hana had done that with just as much grim determination as she had devoted to what came next. And now...
Whatever that damn security system had done to her had hurt, but on its heels came the same dizzy feeling as that night at RGS, dulling the pain and confusing the clarity that came to all those probably about to die. But there were some things she was certain of. The satellite was well and truly disrupted. She knew because it was falling right alongside her through the thinnest of thin air. It would only get thicker. And hotter.
It felt like that night in the club, tipsy and with all cares cast aside, head pounding not with music or drink but with the ravages of a virus, warm not because of hundreds of sweating bodies but because of aerodynamic heating, caressed not by a reasonably good-looking man whose name she hadn't bothered to remember but by the friction that would vaporize her, and she was just too numb for it to hurt.
And she was certain that the satellite was the tracker, and dangerous. And it was worth it to have brought it down.