He's coming and she knows it, even though she knows why

[totallytrustworthy]

Date & Time: 10/11 10pmish
Location: One of the sidestreets just off the recovering marketplace
Characters: Chloe Frazer, Talbot (and possibly some other nice resident who would like to prevent the worst from happening Koltira)
Summary: Talbot rejects the stalemate. Violently.
Warnings: Violence, mind control, drugs, attempted suicide, TERRIBLE THINGS NO ONE SHOULD PROBABLY EVER LOOK AT AND SO ON.

It's been a relatively enjoyable few days since Chloe bothered to take that overwhelmingly difficult step and phone up Talbot in the hopes that she could talk a bit of sense into him. (Or, as it turns out, force him into enough of a corner to make sure he doesn't have any other option but to agree) She doesn't have any illusions about it being anything more than the most fragile and fleeting agreement, but the thought of having enough time to finish dragging a few freshly purchased tools back to Sully's apartment (to repair the broken window that could be used against them with a well-aimed sniper rifle) and the feeling of the slick tablet beneath her fingers as she dials in Charlie's number so they can have a less heated conversation about what needs to be done (and make amends, as usual) has her walking with her head held just a bit higher, leaves a smile tugging gently at the corner of her mouth. Even Koltira can be cured of a bitter mood with enough alcohol, and should she finish up in a timely enough manner, there might even be a few hours to spare for a long, pleasant, chilly conversation out in the woods on a pile of shredded timber. Because as horrid as this month has been, because as much as she'd like to cut ties with everything and run, she's become a social creature, and doing without isn't as easy as it used to be.

The night air is cool against her skin as she rounds the corner of a nearly empty street leading away from the market, pathway lit by the dim glow of her newly issued netbook. She can't help but feel like things are looking up; her plan had worked, after all.

Comments

[chartom]

Though Talbot is no less fixated on the idea of murdering the men responsible for Marlowe's death, his chat with Chloe Frazer has cleared some of his tunnel vision. To be sure both of them get justice, he's realized, he has to approach the task with the precision of a surgeon, making one clean incision at a time.

As fate would have it, this place has placed in his hand the ideal instrument for the job.

From a two-story rooftop, Talbot is able to track his target comfortably through his scope while she finishes her errands. By the time she steps out into a quieter side street, she's at mid-range for the capabilities of the rifle.

He aims low, for the back of the thigh--he doesn't need any obvious marks when they find her. And then he tugs at the trigger.

[totallytrustworthy]

It's not a pleasant sensation, being shot from so far off by something so remarkably sharp despite its size. If not for the pressure of impact she'd assume it was nothing more than the sting of a wasp, but Chloe doesn't have time to reach back for an inspection before there's a creeping numbness in her fingertips, before the edge of her vision starts to blur and run like a smeared watercolor painting. And it's tragically ironic that the tablet in her hands needs only a press to offer her something in the way of security, because she's not so certain it's there anymore (she certainly can't feel it, did she drop it when the floor started to sink a few moments ago?) and with her equilibrium so crippled, there's no way to tell if she's stumbling in the right direction towards the crowds of the market.

The lack of control is crushing, steals the breath right from her. It's a flashback to Syria, to watching Charlie slip away into madness, but this time without the luxury of being a bystander. Those split seconds before the crash when you realize the brake line's already been cut.

[chartom]

Before his mark's first stumble from the impact of the dart, Talbot has already stashed his rifle and set off across the rooftops to intercept her.

Even a clear-headed onlooker might be taken aback by his sudden appearance in the street behind Chloe. He puts a bracing hand on her shoulder and steers her off the road and into the deeper shadows offered by the building beside them.

"Chloe," Talbot murmurs, dropping his chin beside her ear. He's already plucked the dart from her leg and slipped it into his pocket. "I'm here to take care of you."

[totallytrustworthy]

Strange how the sound of his voice can be so equally terrifying and captivating all at once. What fragments of her sanity remain are focused on the severity of the situation, on trying to kickstart some part of her enough to break his fingers for touching her shoulder, for daring to come close enough for her to reach up and put a bullet into his heart. But her body's unresponsive aside from an involuntary tremble that takes hold when she tries to reach for the .45 strapped to her back, and even that dies down as Talbot's words register in her mind. Or barely register. It's more soothing than she'd expected, anyway, what she can make out over the sound of her own pulse racing in her ears.

[chartom]

Once they've retreated into the building's shadow, Talbot turns Chloe around to face him, his touch exceedingly gentle as he reaches to tilt her chin up. When they're eye to eye, he smiles.

"Are you armed, Chloe?"

[totallytrustworthy]

And it's remarkable how an action that was previously impossible is suddenly simple. Chloe can't feel her fingers close around the grip of her gun, but she catches the glint of metal in what scarce light remains as it's lifted from its holster and held out on display.

Her lip curls back, furrowed brow twitching just slightly as she hopes her finger will somehow pull the trigger on its own.

[chartom]

"Good girl." Without breaking eye contact, he puts his hand over the gun's sights and turns it around in her palm, until her grip on it is reversed. "When I leave you, you're going to be consumed by an overwhelming feeling of despair. This place...the things you've seen here, it's too much for you. Everything would be so much easier if you just put the barrel of this gun between those pretty lips and pulled the trigger."

[totallytrustworthy]

Chloe might be barely aware of what's going on, but that-- that registers. So much so that she manages to shake her head, tugging her chin from his grasp.

"No." She mutters, repeating it a few times just under her breath, though she's not sure if it's said out loud or if she's only thinking it.

[chartom]

This one's got some fight in her. It makes his job more difficult, but Talbot's estimation of her steps up a few rungs.

It's a pity he has to put her down. Such a waste.

"You don't have a choice," he says, his voice harder, more insistent. "This life isn't for you: you crave freedom, adventure, wealth...and here you are living like a caged fighting dog. All you see in this place is cold steel bars and the taste of the muzzle every time you try to lick at your wounds. There's no other way out, Chloe. They talk about finding a way home, but it's a promise as empty as any golden calf."

Talbot slides back a step. "Put the gun in your mouth. Pull the trigger. Everything will be okay."

[totallytrustworthy]

There's truth in what he says. It hits hard enough that she loses track of her previous mindset, slips back beneath the haze and falls silent again. And Chloe Frazer's never been one to give in, but she can't feel the ground and her head is still swimming, and it's probably the drugs, or maybe a month of desperately treading water, but she's just too tired to bother keeping her eyes open anymore.

[chartom]

It's sinking in. Even in the dark, he can sense the calm embracing her.

"Yes, that's it. You know what you have to do. It was your idea all along, after all. I'm not here. I never was..."

And in saying, he's gone.

[totallytrustworthy]

The second he fades from sight is the second his words become reality. Every detail mapped out like a script she already knows by heart. She parts her lips, presses the metal to her tongue like a pill...

And doesn't count the seconds before she starts to press on the trigger.

[deadelfwalking]

He sees the tablet first. It's just outside of the alley, lying face-up on the ground, murmuring occasionally with the voices of the other transports, its screen bright with information. Curious, Koltira crosses the street, wondering how one could so easily lose such an important device. The scene becomes clearer as he approaches: there are six smashed bottles just a few feet away, their glass shards slick with spilled beer. Koltira's curiosity turns to suspicion, and he picks up the lost tablet, cursing his inability to get anything useful out of the thing.

But then he hears the sound of a gun cocking from within the alley. His long ears twitch, and Koltira draws Byfrost from his back, thinking initially that it's an act of aggression. He rushes forward, planning to meet whatever challenger might await him.

And stops short, nearly dropping his runeblade in shock.

"Chloe?" he says, taking in the discordant, horrible sight of this self-assured woman with her own gun pressed firmly in her mouth, her fingers tightening on the trigger as though it's the most natural decision she's ever made.

Koltira decides not to wait for a response. He leaps at her, tackling her to the ground. The gun clatters to the pavement.

"Chloe," he breathes, holding her in place. "What's happened to you?"

[totallytrustworthy]

"Let go!" Chloe howls, jabbing the heel of her boot into his side and kicking with the kind of strength that's fueled by only the strongest rushes of adrenaline. She's fixated on the gun that's too far off for her fingers to touch, but there's panicked terror behind her silver eyes each time her gaze shifts to meet Koltira's. Not just because she's afraid that her plans won't come through (because the urge to fire off her gun is clawing away at her with each passing moment) but because in her drugged state there's something completely terrifying about the frosted glow seeping from his eyes in the dark and the sharpness of his teeth. It's a nightmare, and god, she's desperate to end it.

"Get your hands off of me!"

[deadelfwalking]

He hasn't the first idea as to what's happening here; he only knows that he cannot allow it to keep happening. In service of that, he firmly ignores her request, despite the sudden jolt of pain from her attack. He isn't wearing his armor right now, only the suit--which he suspects will soon be just as tattered as the previous one--and he has little defense against her violent thrashing. Koltira is also not keen to use any of his abilities here, for fear of harming her, or even worsening whatever delusion that's currently controlling her behavior.

"You must come to your senses," he growls, pressing his weight upon her, grasping her firmly by the wrists. "You were about to shoot yourself in the bloody head!"

[totallytrustworthy]

Some piece of it clicks, slips past the programming to wake her up. Clarity isn't sanity-- not entirely, anyway-- and though her struggling isn't as desperate, she hasn't stopped attempting to break loose.

"I know, I know..." It's repeated like a mantra, pleading and weighted with despair. "I don't have a choice. I can't--"

[deadelfwalking]

Don't have a choice? Is she under some kind of spell? Anger rises in his throat at the thought. Someone has manipulated Chloe's mind, that much is unquestionable. He cannot even begin to guess who might target her, or why.

"It's all right," he says, maintaining a firm, careful grip. He doesn't want to hurt her; Light help him, he just wants her to relax. His voice drops to a soft, low register, as gentle as he can manage. "I'm here, and I will not let you go."