Post by Felicia Soler on Sept 22, 2015 14:03:48 GMT -5
Take me out
Hatred is blind as well as love
You have to turn hate to love
Get me out
Hatred is blind as well as love
You have to turn hate to love
Get me out
Cazenovia Lake Estate
Cazenovia, NY
Cazenovia, NY
If there was one thing she couldn't stand in life, it was someone annoying the living shit out of her. Immediately following her conversation with Alice, she put both Illy and Daro back to bed. Or, rather, she tucked Daro back into bed, and Illy curled up at the foot of the bed and hid her head between her paws before yawning and covering her face with her tail. As was the case with most of the offspring in the immediate Rahal clan, their powers had manifested early. Thus far, Illy had shown a propensity toward shapeshifting like her great aunt; Daro took more after his mother and had demonstrated the ability to spontaneously heal himself and others.
Lilka had been living in the mother-in-law's house attached to their property to help assist with raising the children when neither she nor Helena were around. She sent her a brief text explaining what was going on, packed two small overnight bags, a Company-issue tablet computer which she wrapped up between one set of clothes, and went to the garage to unleash the newest addition to their family. After stashing the overnight bags in a small compartment under the seat, she donned her racing suit over her clothes, and pulled out her phone. She grabbed an extra helmet off one of the hooks and attached it to her waist. IntelliTouch always had a private jet hangared at the local airfield, and after putting in a call to them, she fastened a helmet over her head and walked the motorcycle to the end of the long driveway so as not to awaken her children when the machine's engine roared to life.
She mounted the bike as she waited for the gate at the end of the drive to open, then turned it on and revved the engine. Considering the bike had a top speed of well over 200 kmh, she estimated that she'd arrive at her destination at the airfield in five minutes. Fitting the 530 pound bike into the cargo hold of the jet was possible; if worse came to worse, she could always haul it onto the plane and park it in the aisle.
Felicia kept her head down to keep both her body and the bike completely streamlined as she switched gears and sped down the roadway. In spite of its bulky size, the two-seater high-powered motorcycle was surprisingly agile and reacted to the barest turn of the handle. She twisted the wheel sideways as she entered the hangar and brought the bike to a skidding halt parallel to the 2008 Challenger 300. As predicted, she arrived at the airfield as scheduled and boarded the plane without issue. After a bit of trial and error, the Ninja ZX 14R was safely stashed away in the belly of the plane, and she was availing herself of the plate of appetisers and cocktails that had been placed on the table in front of her seat while she'd been en route.
As the small jet prepared to lift off, she unpacked the tablet and its charger and set about doing a bit of light research for the remainder of the flight.
The flight lasted a little under an hour, during which time she'd memorised what information she needed. Once they'd deplaned, she oversaw the removal of the Ninja from the cargo hold and was soon on her way after locking in her destination on the bike's touchscreen GPS.
Off the freeway, she had to choke the bike's engines back to a painful crawl, then turned off its lights and shut it down completely once she'd reached the block where Alessandro lived. She removed her helmet and hung it from a handlebar as she walked briskly down the leaf covered street. Autumn was definitely in the air, and she was thankful for the insulation the racing suit had to offer.
Knowing that Alessandro was a paranoid little shit, it didn't surprise her at all to find the exterior of his house outfitted with motion sensor floodlights and strategically placed infrared cameras. Whatever. She walked up the entry foyer with confidence and knocked on the door. He'd probably answer the door with an inhibitor bracelet and a gun, but she really didn't care. She wasn't planning on using her ability on him since she needed to gain his trust.
“Don't be a prick and leave me out here, you jackass! I'll make a scene!” Felicia knew he was in there; she could hear him. “ . . . Io ti sento respirare, Alessandro. Little pig, little pig, please let me in . . . ”
She patiently stood outside the closed door and noticed a small intercom to her left. “Okay. Volete giocare duro? Posso farlo. Ho anni di esperienza. Cerchiamo quindi di giocare, va bene?”
Felicia pressed the ON button and paced in front of the speaker. “Your full name is Alessandro Gianluca Moretti. You were born to Bibiana Gianluca Moretti and Fulgenzio Moretti in Basilicata, Italy on the 16th of August 1974. Both of your parents are deceased. You also had a brother named Gaetana Gianluca Moretti who was gifted with the power of hydrokinesis.” She paused and gave the camera above her a coy smile. “Am I getting warmer? I really don't have a problem picking at your old wounds. So I'll continue.
Your father never wanted you because he didn't like children. He neglected you. Then your brother was born, and you were further alienated from your parents. Since then, you've attempted to psychologically protect yourself by becoming a loner and shutting down that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that maybe, just maybe you won't be rejected. Because of that neglect, you learned to care for yourself from a very young age, but nurtured a seed of cynicism which eventually grew into the personality you have now.”
She adjusted the helmet under her arm and thought of where she wanted to go next. Chronological order was the best way to keep things organised in her mind. “I know you're listening. And no matter how hard you try, I'm not going to let you shut me out, because you have stepped over a HUGE line, and I am seriously pissed off at you.” The second he'd tossed Helena into his argument—that was it. She could have killed him. But once that flight of fancy flew away, she was considering other means of revenge.
“You were schooled at home because your father didn't want you to be exposed to all the horrors in the world. You and your father had several disagreements over your mutual faith. You were—and still are—an incredibly musically gifted young man, and you've always found a certain amount of solace in that.
Your family moved to Los Angeles when you were fourteen, during which time you experienced a large amount of culture shock, having been raised in relative seclusion from the world. . . . but it was something that you enjoyed, which the rest of your family did not. When your family was preparing to make the move back to Italy, your brother first manifested his powers. Your father abandoned all of you, believing that your family had been cursed.
Two years later, your mother was shot and killed in front of you, and your brother was taken away, the latter of which you saw to be a blessing.”
The more words left her lips, the more she almost felt sorry for him. She'd witnessed more death in 800 years than she cared to remember: her children, her lovers, her relatives. It was just something she'd come to accept as being as normal as waking up in the morning, and it had really stopped affecting her years ago.
“You came to learn that the men who took your brother were members of The Company, and waited for years to get the call, because it was in your blood to hunt down all specials, because obviously the millions of us in the world destroyed your family—which is bullshit, by the way, but whatever, I'll let that slide since past all the emotional barriers you've put up to distance yourself from everyone, you're still that scared, lonely, sad little boy looking for someone to pay attention to you and tell you that they love you and that you're needed.”
Even though he wasn't standing in front of her, she could tell that she'd touched a nerve—so of course now she was going to obliterate it.
“You were never a good partner to your godsend counterparts, given your past experiences. You'd sooner see all of us dead, which I can understand.”
And then, the lynch pin.
“Then you turned twenty-four and you were sent on an assignment to pick up an almost six year old girl in Texas. You became an instant father-figure to her, and developed a close bond in spite of your hatred for our kind. She was the one godsend you couldn't find it in your heart to injure, and instead took on the well-deserved mantle of being her protector.
Ten years later, this little girl was taken from you. Even though she didn't abandon you of her own volition, it was something you couldn't control.”
By the end of her lengthy soliloquy, she was sitting on the cold cement with her back against the door. “I'd start playing the Pity Me Olympics with you because I can guarantee I've had way more tragic shit than that happen in the eight centuries I've been alive, but dredging up shit from my past is boring, and by the time I finished telling you about it, you'd be eighty years old and senile. So will you please quit being an asshole and let me in?” Felicia banged her head lightly against the door and groaned. “Ugh, whether you believe it or not, I'm actually here to fucking help you, you jackass, but I can't do that if you don't open the fucking door.”
She pushed herself to her feet and put the helmet back on her head, but left the visor open. He still hadn't opened the door. Now she was getting impatient. This did not bode well for the structural integrity of his house. “Or I can kick your door in. Your choice.” She took a few steps back until she was at the edge of the porch, then crouched down into a sprinting stance. “I'll give you three seconds before I turn all Juggernaut and bust down the door. Three . . . two . . . ”
Lilka had been living in the mother-in-law's house attached to their property to help assist with raising the children when neither she nor Helena were around. She sent her a brief text explaining what was going on, packed two small overnight bags, a Company-issue tablet computer which she wrapped up between one set of clothes, and went to the garage to unleash the newest addition to their family. After stashing the overnight bags in a small compartment under the seat, she donned her racing suit over her clothes, and pulled out her phone. She grabbed an extra helmet off one of the hooks and attached it to her waist. IntelliTouch always had a private jet hangared at the local airfield, and after putting in a call to them, she fastened a helmet over her head and walked the motorcycle to the end of the long driveway so as not to awaken her children when the machine's engine roared to life.
She mounted the bike as she waited for the gate at the end of the drive to open, then turned it on and revved the engine. Considering the bike had a top speed of well over 200 kmh, she estimated that she'd arrive at her destination at the airfield in five minutes. Fitting the 530 pound bike into the cargo hold of the jet was possible; if worse came to worse, she could always haul it onto the plane and park it in the aisle.
Felicia kept her head down to keep both her body and the bike completely streamlined as she switched gears and sped down the roadway. In spite of its bulky size, the two-seater high-powered motorcycle was surprisingly agile and reacted to the barest turn of the handle. She twisted the wheel sideways as she entered the hangar and brought the bike to a skidding halt parallel to the 2008 Challenger 300. As predicted, she arrived at the airfield as scheduled and boarded the plane without issue. After a bit of trial and error, the Ninja ZX 14R was safely stashed away in the belly of the plane, and she was availing herself of the plate of appetisers and cocktails that had been placed on the table in front of her seat while she'd been en route.
As the small jet prepared to lift off, she unpacked the tablet and its charger and set about doing a bit of light research for the remainder of the flight.
**********
10 Brook Lane
Somewhere in New York
Somewhere in New York
The flight lasted a little under an hour, during which time she'd memorised what information she needed. Once they'd deplaned, she oversaw the removal of the Ninja from the cargo hold and was soon on her way after locking in her destination on the bike's touchscreen GPS.
Off the freeway, she had to choke the bike's engines back to a painful crawl, then turned off its lights and shut it down completely once she'd reached the block where Alessandro lived. She removed her helmet and hung it from a handlebar as she walked briskly down the leaf covered street. Autumn was definitely in the air, and she was thankful for the insulation the racing suit had to offer.
Knowing that Alessandro was a paranoid little shit, it didn't surprise her at all to find the exterior of his house outfitted with motion sensor floodlights and strategically placed infrared cameras. Whatever. She walked up the entry foyer with confidence and knocked on the door. He'd probably answer the door with an inhibitor bracelet and a gun, but she really didn't care. She wasn't planning on using her ability on him since she needed to gain his trust.
“Don't be a prick and leave me out here, you jackass! I'll make a scene!” Felicia knew he was in there; she could hear him. “ . . . Io ti sento respirare, Alessandro. Little pig, little pig, please let me in . . . ”
She patiently stood outside the closed door and noticed a small intercom to her left. “Okay. Volete giocare duro? Posso farlo. Ho anni di esperienza. Cerchiamo quindi di giocare, va bene?”
Felicia pressed the ON button and paced in front of the speaker. “Your full name is Alessandro Gianluca Moretti. You were born to Bibiana Gianluca Moretti and Fulgenzio Moretti in Basilicata, Italy on the 16th of August 1974. Both of your parents are deceased. You also had a brother named Gaetana Gianluca Moretti who was gifted with the power of hydrokinesis.” She paused and gave the camera above her a coy smile. “Am I getting warmer? I really don't have a problem picking at your old wounds. So I'll continue.
Your father never wanted you because he didn't like children. He neglected you. Then your brother was born, and you were further alienated from your parents. Since then, you've attempted to psychologically protect yourself by becoming a loner and shutting down that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that maybe, just maybe you won't be rejected. Because of that neglect, you learned to care for yourself from a very young age, but nurtured a seed of cynicism which eventually grew into the personality you have now.”
She adjusted the helmet under her arm and thought of where she wanted to go next. Chronological order was the best way to keep things organised in her mind. “I know you're listening. And no matter how hard you try, I'm not going to let you shut me out, because you have stepped over a HUGE line, and I am seriously pissed off at you.” The second he'd tossed Helena into his argument—that was it. She could have killed him. But once that flight of fancy flew away, she was considering other means of revenge.
“You were schooled at home because your father didn't want you to be exposed to all the horrors in the world. You and your father had several disagreements over your mutual faith. You were—and still are—an incredibly musically gifted young man, and you've always found a certain amount of solace in that.
Your family moved to Los Angeles when you were fourteen, during which time you experienced a large amount of culture shock, having been raised in relative seclusion from the world. . . . but it was something that you enjoyed, which the rest of your family did not. When your family was preparing to make the move back to Italy, your brother first manifested his powers. Your father abandoned all of you, believing that your family had been cursed.
Two years later, your mother was shot and killed in front of you, and your brother was taken away, the latter of which you saw to be a blessing.”
The more words left her lips, the more she almost felt sorry for him. She'd witnessed more death in 800 years than she cared to remember: her children, her lovers, her relatives. It was just something she'd come to accept as being as normal as waking up in the morning, and it had really stopped affecting her years ago.
“You came to learn that the men who took your brother were members of The Company, and waited for years to get the call, because it was in your blood to hunt down all specials, because obviously the millions of us in the world destroyed your family—which is bullshit, by the way, but whatever, I'll let that slide since past all the emotional barriers you've put up to distance yourself from everyone, you're still that scared, lonely, sad little boy looking for someone to pay attention to you and tell you that they love you and that you're needed.”
Even though he wasn't standing in front of her, she could tell that she'd touched a nerve—so of course now she was going to obliterate it.
“You were never a good partner to your godsend counterparts, given your past experiences. You'd sooner see all of us dead, which I can understand.”
And then, the lynch pin.
“Then you turned twenty-four and you were sent on an assignment to pick up an almost six year old girl in Texas. You became an instant father-figure to her, and developed a close bond in spite of your hatred for our kind. She was the one godsend you couldn't find it in your heart to injure, and instead took on the well-deserved mantle of being her protector.
Ten years later, this little girl was taken from you. Even though she didn't abandon you of her own volition, it was something you couldn't control.”
By the end of her lengthy soliloquy, she was sitting on the cold cement with her back against the door. “I'd start playing the Pity Me Olympics with you because I can guarantee I've had way more tragic shit than that happen in the eight centuries I've been alive, but dredging up shit from my past is boring, and by the time I finished telling you about it, you'd be eighty years old and senile. So will you please quit being an asshole and let me in?” Felicia banged her head lightly against the door and groaned. “Ugh, whether you believe it or not, I'm actually here to fucking help you, you jackass, but I can't do that if you don't open the fucking door.”
She pushed herself to her feet and put the helmet back on her head, but left the visor open. He still hadn't opened the door. Now she was getting impatient. This did not bode well for the structural integrity of his house. “Or I can kick your door in. Your choice.” She took a few steps back until she was at the edge of the porch, then crouched down into a sprinting stance. “I'll give you three seconds before I turn all Juggernaut and bust down the door. Three . . . two . . . ”
Довести до белого каления.
ф ф Word count: 1903
ф ф Mood: Freezing and I don't want to adult today.
ф ф Outfit: Felicia's gear
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: Take Me Out, Anna Tsuchiya
ф ф Illustrations: Illy
ф ф Comment / Informational links: I gave Alessandro a house here, but he can live wherever in NY.
ф ф Word count: 1903
ф ф Mood: Freezing and I don't want to adult today.
ф ф Outfit: Felicia's gear
ф ф Lyrics / Quote: Take Me Out, Anna Tsuchiya
ф ф Illustrations: Illy
ф ф Comment / Informational links: I gave Alessandro a house here, but he can live wherever in NY.