Swallow It Down; What A Jagged Little Pill
Nov 1, 2015 9:48:44 GMT -5
Post by Black Adder on Nov 1, 2015 9:48:44 GMT -5
“We don’t have to do this now. If you’re too upset to-”
“I’m not upset.”
“Upset sounds nicer than afraid, Hana..”
“I’m not afraid either. There’s a difference between hatred and fear.”
“You’d think you’d get past this, Hana. Or at least get used to it.”
“I’m used to it. I still hate it. I told you not to do this; you’ve got a career to worry about.”
“And until you get a safer one, we’re both taking risks. Now shut up, close your eyes, and give me your arm.”
After clicking the roof of her mouth, Hana Song extends her arm, fingers balled into a fist, while turning her head away and for good reason. A woman in a white lab coat swabs Hana’s arm and, after warning about a little pinch, a needle is inserted and the warm feeling of blood through a tube runs along Hana’s skin as it carries from a bag into the body of the Adder.
“As your doctor, I have to caution you against-”
“I know. We’re not in the hospital. You’d never get away with it there.”
“As your sister you’re an ass. You want me to shoot you when we’re done?”
“Only if you don’t break my camera like last time. Hands of a surgeon but clumsy as an oaf.
“Yeah, but I still always find a vein.”
The Sisters Song shared a soft bit of laughter over that. It was welcome; laughing helped take both of their minds off of the medically immoral task at hand.
~
A small rubber ball flies in the air, spins, and comes crashing back down towards the ground until it is caught by palm whose fingers have bright red nails and that squeeze the ball. Again the ball is tossed into the air and again it is caught with a squeeze.
Hana Song sits forward, even her posture aggressive, as she stares, eyes narrowed, directly ahead. The ball in her hand no longer gets tossed; she’s more focused on squeezing it as hard as she can.
“You might think I’m angry, having to go back to the well against a former target; the eponymous ‘one that got away’, the one who holds the distinction of marring my otherwise impeccable history. You might think this. And you’d be wrong. I’m actually ecstatic and there’s a simple reason for that. I get to finish what never truly ended.”
“I’ve moved on from Bree Nelson, onto bigger things, onto more important things, onto things that matter. Bree should’ve been nothing more than a footnote, joining the ranks of the prey whose names I’ve long since forgotten because they weren’t worthy or enjoyable pursuits. But things didn’t work out that way and Bree managed to run off and live to sign the tale.”
“Let me make it perfectly clear. I never lost to Bree Nelson. Go back and review the footage and show me just where Bree got the better of me. Bree started crying and whining about Donovan, causing a mess of a scene in the midst of a match and her actions ruined our match. I didn’t lose. Not to Bree. I was interrupted.”
“But I’m not bitter. Far from it. It’s hard to be bitter when I never cared about Bree as an opponent. I already had my sights on someone bigger. Someone better. Bree was nothing to me. I’m not bitter. I’m disappointed that the satisfaction of running her face into the steps was taken from me.”
“And even now, not that far removed from the event, history is repeating itself. Bree is still nothing to me other than a rabbit that ran away with only phantom bites. I’ve got my eyes on more meaningful prey. Don’t let that lull you into security, Bree, just because things are in motion as I’ve put them doesn’t mean I’m going to be less of a threat.”
“The thing is, I don’t like it when things don’t have conclusions. When last we left off, we had been going for ten minutes and the outside of the ring was our current hunting grounds. I have a bit of a hunch that I won’t need nearly as long to make this match reach its definitive conclusion.”
“The one that got away…comes running back into the jaws of the serpent…whose venom is only more potent. This time, Bree, no one will bother us. This time, Bree, you won’t be crying over the body of another but they will cry over yours. This time, Bree, my Bite won’t miss.”
“I’m not bitter. But once my foot stomps your little face…you’ll experience a pain that can only be described as…bitter.”
The ball is chucked towards the camera, cutting the footage short.
“I’m not upset.”
“Upset sounds nicer than afraid, Hana..”
“I’m not afraid either. There’s a difference between hatred and fear.”
“You’d think you’d get past this, Hana. Or at least get used to it.”
“I’m used to it. I still hate it. I told you not to do this; you’ve got a career to worry about.”
“And until you get a safer one, we’re both taking risks. Now shut up, close your eyes, and give me your arm.”
After clicking the roof of her mouth, Hana Song extends her arm, fingers balled into a fist, while turning her head away and for good reason. A woman in a white lab coat swabs Hana’s arm and, after warning about a little pinch, a needle is inserted and the warm feeling of blood through a tube runs along Hana’s skin as it carries from a bag into the body of the Adder.
“As your doctor, I have to caution you against-”
“I know. We’re not in the hospital. You’d never get away with it there.”
“As your sister you’re an ass. You want me to shoot you when we’re done?”
“Only if you don’t break my camera like last time. Hands of a surgeon but clumsy as an oaf.
“Yeah, but I still always find a vein.”
The Sisters Song shared a soft bit of laughter over that. It was welcome; laughing helped take both of their minds off of the medically immoral task at hand.
~
A small rubber ball flies in the air, spins, and comes crashing back down towards the ground until it is caught by palm whose fingers have bright red nails and that squeeze the ball. Again the ball is tossed into the air and again it is caught with a squeeze.
Hana Song sits forward, even her posture aggressive, as she stares, eyes narrowed, directly ahead. The ball in her hand no longer gets tossed; she’s more focused on squeezing it as hard as she can.
“You might think I’m angry, having to go back to the well against a former target; the eponymous ‘one that got away’, the one who holds the distinction of marring my otherwise impeccable history. You might think this. And you’d be wrong. I’m actually ecstatic and there’s a simple reason for that. I get to finish what never truly ended.”
“I’ve moved on from Bree Nelson, onto bigger things, onto more important things, onto things that matter. Bree should’ve been nothing more than a footnote, joining the ranks of the prey whose names I’ve long since forgotten because they weren’t worthy or enjoyable pursuits. But things didn’t work out that way and Bree managed to run off and live to sign the tale.”
“Let me make it perfectly clear. I never lost to Bree Nelson. Go back and review the footage and show me just where Bree got the better of me. Bree started crying and whining about Donovan, causing a mess of a scene in the midst of a match and her actions ruined our match. I didn’t lose. Not to Bree. I was interrupted.”
“But I’m not bitter. Far from it. It’s hard to be bitter when I never cared about Bree as an opponent. I already had my sights on someone bigger. Someone better. Bree was nothing to me. I’m not bitter. I’m disappointed that the satisfaction of running her face into the steps was taken from me.”
“And even now, not that far removed from the event, history is repeating itself. Bree is still nothing to me other than a rabbit that ran away with only phantom bites. I’ve got my eyes on more meaningful prey. Don’t let that lull you into security, Bree, just because things are in motion as I’ve put them doesn’t mean I’m going to be less of a threat.”
“The thing is, I don’t like it when things don’t have conclusions. When last we left off, we had been going for ten minutes and the outside of the ring was our current hunting grounds. I have a bit of a hunch that I won’t need nearly as long to make this match reach its definitive conclusion.”
“The one that got away…comes running back into the jaws of the serpent…whose venom is only more potent. This time, Bree, no one will bother us. This time, Bree, you won’t be crying over the body of another but they will cry over yours. This time, Bree, my Bite won’t miss.”
“I’m not bitter. But once my foot stomps your little face…you’ll experience a pain that can only be described as…bitter.”
The ball is chucked towards the camera, cutting the footage short.