Chicago is Burning - Eve Commits a Murder
Feb. 22nd, 2023 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFollowing the granting of Shatter and Postman's final wishes on the surface, Eve's takes the group in a drastic and sudden new turn.
After Shatter had rescued his dog, they'd retreated back to the tunnels for a few hours, all of them watching him just sit and hold the dog. The thing he'd wanted more than anything else - getting the dog back - had hardened Eve's desire to at least confront her ex.
She'd left the tunnels eventually, Trader, Postman and Match following her across town on the bus to stand outside an unpreposing house on the South Side. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave a little sob. Trader stepped forward to put his arms around her and Eve shrugged away. "I just. I want him to fucking feel what I did."
Postman gave her a look, voice hard but eyes soft as he talked. "It's too risky. Shatter's got his pup, I've made my goodbyes to my wife. The others deserve their chance too, but they can't if you make a scene." His voice gentled as he continued, cajoling. "Look, we can leave him a drooling husk that can't even remember how to tie his own shoes. The other'll take care of him plenty fast, and you can rest easy knowing he can't hurt anyone else the way he hurt you. But we can't do anything that'll alert the neighbors enough to call the pigs."
She rounded on him. The expression on her face must have alerted Trader to something and he tried to step between Eve and Postman but she shouldered him out of the way. "I don't want him to forget me. God, no. I want -- If he forgets me, forgets all the times we'd get high together, forgets all the times he showed me how much he cared... No, he can't forget me. I can't believe that's your goddamn answer. Your wife is in a coma because you made her forget you. She's a fucking vegetable. I want him to fucking pay. He's never going to get away easy by forgetting me."
Eve began to walk across the road. The gate was unlocked. She paused on the stoop, unable, unwilling to see if the door was also unlocked. It usually had been at this time of night.
Match shifted his weight uncomfortably behind them, unsure what to do and trying to make sense of what Eve had said, he'd thought, well, what he'd thought before didn't matter now, but - "You don't think she'll actually, like, hurt him, right?" He finally asked, looking at Trader first before settling on Postman, because if things went bad, would they still let him see his grandma? "Postman?"
"I wish I could tell you no, kid, but she's always been a bit volatile." The older man crossed his arms over his chest, the low-hitting comment making him more than a little tempted to leave Eve to her own damn luck. He didn't trust her not to rat them out if he did, so he heaved a sigh and got ready to deal with this problem. "Trader, you and this one get less visible before Eve's temper sends this to shit." As he stalked across the street, he fervently wished the woman had gotten the shortest straw. Or volunteered to go last, considering how volatile she and her former pimp could both get. Leaving the man's brain full of holes would've made him easy, fast work for the women he still had in his clutches. They would've had anything of value stripped and scattered to the winds before the cops even knew something was wrong, and what was one more low-life off the streets to them? But no, Eve couldn't just get her licks and then let it not be personal.
Trader shook his head. "She got screwed by that guy. You know that. He really screwed her. I don't want to leave her there on her own." He followed Postman and Eve across the street but didn't go into the house. They could hear, and see, everything from the stoop.
Eve wasn't talking - she was crying - electricity cracking around her exposed skin.
And again, Match followed on the older men's heels, tugging the hood of his coat down further as his eyes darted around to make sure there weren't any cameras, or, well, cameras he could make out. "She's crying?" It was little more than a whisper, confusion and something like sympathy edging in.
"Yeah." Postman let out a heavy sigh as the two followed him across the street instead of staying where it was safer. Easier to get away, when this inevitably went to shit. "Trader wasn't joking about the asshole screwing her. Literally, figuratively. Twisted her all inside out, again and again. I wouldn't offer to make him a drooling husk for the other women he's screwed over to find and deal with just for shits and giggles. My power's dangerous, kid. I've already fucked up my own life with it. I'm careful about how and when I use it now. You'll have to be too, with that spark inside of you. Don't want it to become the sort of inferno that overtakes everything you love." They were basically at the door, and Postman stopped just a few feet inside it.
Eve was crying almost too much to talk. "You bastard," she choked out. "You fucked me. You--" She trailed off and the man in the room - early 30s, ordinary-looking, in jeans and a sweater - got to his feet.
"Jesus Eve. What the fuck are you doing here? You run off, you leave me and you come back with that freak?" One hand strayed to the small of his back and his gun. "I looked after you and you fucked off and left me."
"No. You never did."
"Do you have any idea how much your fucking habit cost me? Jesus fuck. Get out of here. You're a freak like him."
"No." Eve shook her head. "I told him. I told him I wanted you to know how much you made me hurt." Even more electricity was visible, cracking in her hair and around her hands.
"And I told her you weren't worth the hassle, but Eve, she's got that mind of her own and all." Postman leaned against the wall, giving the man a casual once over and dismissing him. "I mean it, Eve. He's not worth it, and we need to get out of here. He's never gonna fuckin understand, so feed it into an outlet and let's get gone already."
The other man took a step toward Eve and then a second one. "No. Don't. Don't fucking touch me, asshole," she said. He hit her, a loose, sloppy punch to the stomach and Eve stumbled back.
"You don't get to tell me what I do. Freaks like you..." He reached out to Eve again and this time, she grabbed his arm.
"Don't fucking touch me," Eve repeated. The electricity that had been sparking around her all evening flared as she focussed it, electrocuting her ex.
"Holy shit, holy shitholyshitholyshit," Match whispered, taking a frantic step back to find the end of the stoop. Beside him, Trader had moved forward, before reeling back, at what must have been the overpowering stench rolling off the fresh corpse. "Oh fuck, we have to get outta here."
After Shatter had rescued his dog, they'd retreated back to the tunnels for a few hours, all of them watching him just sit and hold the dog. The thing he'd wanted more than anything else - getting the dog back - had hardened Eve's desire to at least confront her ex.
She'd left the tunnels eventually, Trader, Postman and Match following her across town on the bus to stand outside an unpreposing house on the South Side. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave a little sob. Trader stepped forward to put his arms around her and Eve shrugged away. "I just. I want him to fucking feel what I did."
Postman gave her a look, voice hard but eyes soft as he talked. "It's too risky. Shatter's got his pup, I've made my goodbyes to my wife. The others deserve their chance too, but they can't if you make a scene." His voice gentled as he continued, cajoling. "Look, we can leave him a drooling husk that can't even remember how to tie his own shoes. The other'll take care of him plenty fast, and you can rest easy knowing he can't hurt anyone else the way he hurt you. But we can't do anything that'll alert the neighbors enough to call the pigs."
She rounded on him. The expression on her face must have alerted Trader to something and he tried to step between Eve and Postman but she shouldered him out of the way. "I don't want him to forget me. God, no. I want -- If he forgets me, forgets all the times we'd get high together, forgets all the times he showed me how much he cared... No, he can't forget me. I can't believe that's your goddamn answer. Your wife is in a coma because you made her forget you. She's a fucking vegetable. I want him to fucking pay. He's never going to get away easy by forgetting me."
Eve began to walk across the road. The gate was unlocked. She paused on the stoop, unable, unwilling to see if the door was also unlocked. It usually had been at this time of night.
Match shifted his weight uncomfortably behind them, unsure what to do and trying to make sense of what Eve had said, he'd thought, well, what he'd thought before didn't matter now, but - "You don't think she'll actually, like, hurt him, right?" He finally asked, looking at Trader first before settling on Postman, because if things went bad, would they still let him see his grandma? "Postman?"
"I wish I could tell you no, kid, but she's always been a bit volatile." The older man crossed his arms over his chest, the low-hitting comment making him more than a little tempted to leave Eve to her own damn luck. He didn't trust her not to rat them out if he did, so he heaved a sigh and got ready to deal with this problem. "Trader, you and this one get less visible before Eve's temper sends this to shit." As he stalked across the street, he fervently wished the woman had gotten the shortest straw. Or volunteered to go last, considering how volatile she and her former pimp could both get. Leaving the man's brain full of holes would've made him easy, fast work for the women he still had in his clutches. They would've had anything of value stripped and scattered to the winds before the cops even knew something was wrong, and what was one more low-life off the streets to them? But no, Eve couldn't just get her licks and then let it not be personal.
Trader shook his head. "She got screwed by that guy. You know that. He really screwed her. I don't want to leave her there on her own." He followed Postman and Eve across the street but didn't go into the house. They could hear, and see, everything from the stoop.
Eve wasn't talking - she was crying - electricity cracking around her exposed skin.
And again, Match followed on the older men's heels, tugging the hood of his coat down further as his eyes darted around to make sure there weren't any cameras, or, well, cameras he could make out. "She's crying?" It was little more than a whisper, confusion and something like sympathy edging in.
"Yeah." Postman let out a heavy sigh as the two followed him across the street instead of staying where it was safer. Easier to get away, when this inevitably went to shit. "Trader wasn't joking about the asshole screwing her. Literally, figuratively. Twisted her all inside out, again and again. I wouldn't offer to make him a drooling husk for the other women he's screwed over to find and deal with just for shits and giggles. My power's dangerous, kid. I've already fucked up my own life with it. I'm careful about how and when I use it now. You'll have to be too, with that spark inside of you. Don't want it to become the sort of inferno that overtakes everything you love." They were basically at the door, and Postman stopped just a few feet inside it.
Eve was crying almost too much to talk. "You bastard," she choked out. "You fucked me. You--" She trailed off and the man in the room - early 30s, ordinary-looking, in jeans and a sweater - got to his feet.
"Jesus Eve. What the fuck are you doing here? You run off, you leave me and you come back with that freak?" One hand strayed to the small of his back and his gun. "I looked after you and you fucked off and left me."
"No. You never did."
"Do you have any idea how much your fucking habit cost me? Jesus fuck. Get out of here. You're a freak like him."
"No." Eve shook her head. "I told him. I told him I wanted you to know how much you made me hurt." Even more electricity was visible, cracking in her hair and around her hands.
"And I told her you weren't worth the hassle, but Eve, she's got that mind of her own and all." Postman leaned against the wall, giving the man a casual once over and dismissing him. "I mean it, Eve. He's not worth it, and we need to get out of here. He's never gonna fuckin understand, so feed it into an outlet and let's get gone already."
The other man took a step toward Eve and then a second one. "No. Don't. Don't fucking touch me, asshole," she said. He hit her, a loose, sloppy punch to the stomach and Eve stumbled back.
"You don't get to tell me what I do. Freaks like you..." He reached out to Eve again and this time, she grabbed his arm.
"Don't fucking touch me," Eve repeated. The electricity that had been sparking around her all evening flared as she focussed it, electrocuting her ex.
"Holy shit, holy shitholyshitholyshit," Match whispered, taking a frantic step back to find the end of the stoop. Beside him, Trader had moved forward, before reeling back, at what must have been the overpowering stench rolling off the fresh corpse. "Oh fuck, we have to get outta here."
